Now here's something I didn't know before this gig. The manics are musical marmite for a lot of people. They seem to elicit some rather passionate and surprising responses, ranging from the sort of comment that goes along the lines of "Can't believe you're going, you lucky so and so" to odd ones such as "What? You like them? I never do understand what anybody sees in them".

It seemed to me that the huge queue of people ouside the venue before the doors opened was in answer those naysayers. There was no support band. The setlist was in two halves. The first was their latest album (Journal for Plague Lovers) played in full. And the second was a bit of a trawl through the hits. It's not often that you get such generosity from any band, and this really was a special night. I've not bought Journal yet, and the first thing I love about it is the album art which is displayed above the band. I had a discussion about this with my mate. She wasn't so impressed, but I had to disagree. Jenny Saville's work is quite exceptional.

The reception in the first half to Journal for Plague lovers was understandably less voluble than that for the second half. But this was no filler material. The lyrics are all by Richey Edwards and the band finally felt that they needed to be heard. Richey himself was represented by a pink feather boa around Nicky Wire's neck throughout the evening. Speaking of Wire, he was not his usual self as he was suffering from a prolapsed disc but it's a measure of the band and their relationship with their fans that they chose to perform this, and the other two roundhouse gigs. At times, touching, at others, displaying the manic's ear for grand musical gesture, the new material delivers once more. The final song in the first half was sang by Nicky (as he does on the album).

In truth, the performance could have ended there and we'd have all gone home very happy. We went outside to have a drink and a breather on the balcony which is superb on a summer's evening. We actually enjoyed it so much, we inadvertantly missed the opening number of the second half, Motorcycle Emptiness, which was a pity. But this would have set the tone for the rest of the second half, which was a reminder to us all why we love this band so much. We love them for so many reasons - for some it's the politics and the sheer passion of every word. I have to say I'm not one of them. I shamelessly danced and jumped and sang to "You love us", because I do just love them. I know I know. I missed the point of the song. But for me (and several hundred other people) this was a celebration of their music. And what a huge list to choose from: Tsunami, La Tristesse Durera, If You Tolerate This Your Children Will Be Next, Australia and You Stole The Sun From My Heart. I couldn't have wished for anything better.

Looking back at the set list for the evening, I really cannot believe they played so many songs. They finished with Design for Life, and as the lights went up and the crowd started to move out, I actually felt disappointed. Time had flown by and I wanted more. I don't think they had any more to give.

Oh and one more thing. Membership cards needed to get into the Lock Tavern afterwards? What is the world coming to?

"Hey, mate? Want to come to a gig? It's this really fantastic band I saw on the weekend. They were awesome. You should check them out"

"Sure thing buddy. I'll always go listen to a band you like. See you there."

Two things: My mate really does say things like "Sure thing buddy". But what he said after that had me in a bit of a panic. What if they really aren't as good as that? By this time, I'd written up the reviews from the first day of Foxfest, so I re-read the bit I'd written about this band, and it certainly looked good on paper. And I remembered they'd had some good tunes and a fantastic performer in the shape of Seymour, so all in all I thought I was worrying about nothing. And the gig was in another small venue, so it was bound to be OK.

So - a few hours later I walked through the doors of a surprisingly empty Dublin Castle. Having said that, I'm not sure how busy it usually gets on a Tuesday night. Somehow I'd assumed it was always full. It had actually been my local for a while as I lived right next door and in all my time living in there I'd never been in - but I always remember it being pretty busy as I walked by. But it's not my favourite venue, much less my favourite pub. I think I'd only seen one or two bands there in the past, and they weren't memorable. I think the last time I saw anyone there was at the Camden Crawl a couple of years back, but I can't remember who I saw.

I'd arrived about twenty minutes before my mate, and I saw Seymour arrive with his Dad, who'd come to see the gig tonight. He looked pretty laid back as he chatted in the bar, but what was I expecting? Him to be as manic as he was at Foxfest all the time? Still, it would have been nice to have a quick chat, but he was meeting his friends, so I didn't want to interrupt.

My mate arrived, and after catching up we went inside. We paid £5 each which is fair enough, but it doesn't half remind me what a bargain last weekend was. We stood at the back and waited for the band to get started. Well, when I say the back, there isn't much of a back to speak off at the Dublin. It's pretty tight, and there wasn't really a lot of people there to see them. So really there was a line of people standing half way back from the stage, then me, my mate and a couple of others leaning on the desk at the back. They started and something didn't feel right straight away. It was the sound. It wasn't good. Very dull and flat. Now, this wasn't the sort of band that needs that kind of treatment. My mate wasn't impressed. Can't say I was either. And it carried on - and I wasn't really getting into it at all.

I've got to admit that I was tired on the night. But I think they were too. Where they seemed spontaneous and explosive on Saturday, they seemed a little slow and ponderous tonight. But I have to say that this could easily have been more about my own state of mind. But it wasn't just me either. My mate wasn't moved as I jumped up and down to "The Air is on Fire". In fact he didn't move for the whole set.

It turns out that the band has been playing together for some time (they were all members of Miss Black America), but we both didn't know this at the time. As we left, his conclusion was "They've got some more work to do yet.". I think on the second time out for me I'd be inclined to agree.

http://www.myspace.com/tencitynation

It was the hottest day of the year so far. Well, it certainly felt like it as I crossed into the wilds of south east London for the second time in a weekend. The sun was out, the pretty girls were out and I was heading back to the pub. I'd felt strangely drawn to return, and, unusually for me, it wasn't for the beer. No, I'd returned to the fox for another day of fun and new music at Foxfest 2009. I hadn't intended coming to both days, but I'd had such a good time the previous day that I'd already decided I was coming back even before I'd left the night before.

I arrived earlier than I had the previous day, as I didn't want to miss as much as I had the previous day, but, even though the start had been delayed by about an hour, I still managed to miss Jamie Commons. But I did manage to catch most of Dune Lake's set. As before, I'm writing this from a combination of the notes I made and listening to the various myspace pages. I simply wrote "Amazing voice, versatile band" for Dune Lake. And now as I listen to their music on their myspace page, I am reminded of their set. They play a suprisingly wide range of styles - some bluesy, some rock and roll and others such as the ethereal "Twilight", are so utterly gorgeous, you stand and listen hoping that they will stay on the stage for just that bit longer. Again, for a second time, I had the good fortune to arrive to a fantastic set. Perfect. The crowd thought so too.

Next up on the acoustic stage was Kate Weston, who delighted us all with a wonderful performance of classical guitar playing. I'll have to admit that my knowledge of styles of guitar playing is limited, so I really can't describe it too well, but for those of us who listened, it was an absolute pleasure. Despite some obvious nerves, she played beautifully, and thankfully, Johnny quietened the back of the room down while she played, as the noise was starting to overwhelm her music. That would have been a real shame, as this was a first for me; to hear such delicately crafted music performed so well in a pub was a real treat. Another great performance.

One of the reasons I enjoyed the previous day so much was the range of different musical styles, and already I'd heard a few, so it was no real surprise that the dynamic changed once more for the next act on the other stage, the wonderfully poptastic Yokoko. I'd had a conversation earlier where I expressed my disdain for pop acts. But I'd forgotten how much I enjoyed this band. It must have been about four o'clock when they came on stage, if not earlier. I'm not used to dancing in pubs at this time, but I found myself dancing about to Yokoko's music as if it were compulsary. As I bopped up and down, I was reminded of St. Etienne's finer moments. It's a rare skill writing and performing this kind of music and they have it in spades. As they finished their last number, it was impossible to notice the grins on everyone's faces. Brilliant brilliant fun.

So, back to the other end of the pub for the next set by Vienna. I enjoyed this a lot. Each song she played, every word she sang, I found myself brought closer to the edge of my seat. She has an amazing tautness in her voice, that really conveys every emotion in her songs to a point that somehow you begin to feel her music rather than just listen to it. For the second half of her set she was joined by her sister, Lydia, on the cello. And what a masterstroke that was. All that was brilliant before was simply made better. I caught up with her later, and told her how much I enjoyed her music. After thanking me, she seemed much more interested in how I thought her sister did. She was so proud of her, and rightly so, and incredibly modest about her own performance. A truly memorable moment from two incredibly talented sisters.

Clay Pigeon were up next. And another storming performance. They play a fairly unique style. Unique for today at least, as they bring together some interesting styles, ska, hip hop, punk and reggae, which at times reminded me of the Red Wedge era, which is no bad thing. But what a way they played it. With passion, excitement and above all plenty of noise, this was like listening to Mike Patten duetting with Billy Bragg. On acid. No, really. Have a listen for yourself.

Next up on the acoustic stage was Dexy. On a weekend of superlatives, I feel almost guilty so say that this was probably my least favourite performance of the day. That's not to say there was no merit to his performance, but for some reason or another, it didn't hold me as much as I'd hoped. It probably didn't help that he was sandwiched between two great bands - the aforementioned Clay Pigeon and the rather excellent Witches. I loved them so much I bought the t-shirt. And I never buy band t-shirts. I think they saw me coming. I'd just seen them on stage. I staggered out into the garden, looking for their CD. Breathless and excited I pointed to it proffering a sweaty tenner. "You get a t-shirt with the album for an extra couple of quid", I was told. Bargain.

I wore that t-shirt the next day at work. I wore that t-shirt as I listened to their album while I worked. At times, a little like Arcade Fire, but at times nothing like them, they have an imperious presence on stage that simply blew me away. I will definitely catch them again. They'd better have a different t-shirt on sale by then.

Now, I don't like saxaphones as a rule. So my heart sank a bit as the next act was introduced on the acoustic stage. Adam and the Jazz Daddy. Nice. I'd seen Adam the previous night playing drums with Breton. He'd been rather excellent then, but it was today's performance that showed off his brilliance on the drums. But this wasn't just about the drums. This was about some spectacularly smart jazz. I have no idea what the Jazz Daddy's real name is, and it really doesn't matter. His sax playing spoke for itself and I ate my own words about saxophonists. This was sensational stuff. A whole new experience for me, as I don't usually go in for jazz. Unbelievable. This festival gets better and better...

Which brings me to the next act. A beat box. We were told in his introduction that he would be competing in the world beatbox championship. I wasn't impressed. And that he'd be at glastonbury. I wasn't impressed by this news either. If Jazz isn't my thing, I can tell you that I don't do beatbox dudes. So, unusually for me, I couldn't be bothered getting up and walking to the stage as Reeps One started. I'm not even going to bother trying to describe the performance. But this was awesome. Unbelievably awesome. The crowd went nuts. And rightly so. Utterly brilliant.

I sadly missed the next act, The New Happiness as I, along with a number of other foxfesters did that day, went out in search of dirty chicken dinners. We shall speak no more of this as it was indeed dirty. With questionable chicken content. I missed quite a bit of Stuart O'Connor's too sadly. But what I heard I really enjoyed. There was an amazing variety in the songs, and it was great to see the double bass on stage. And then at the end he was joined by the Jazz Daddy. I was a bit of a new fan of him now, so this rounded of the set nicely. I wish I'd caught the whole set.

The day before I'd seen Matt Daley do some pretty cool things with the loop pedal. The Android Angel did things with loops I'd never heard before. The Android Angel is Paul Colto. He's only been doing this for about 6 months, according to his website, which is pretty amazing. A very unique performance, he brings a tremendous sense of fun to the stage that is really engaging. His final number ended with some crowd participation. He went around the audience handing out various pieces of percussion. I was desparately disappointed I didn't get anything to play myself! A really run ending to a great set.

Next up were a band called the Scaredy Cats a Ska Funk band. They weren't bad, and those in the crowd certainly had a good time dancing to their tunes. One of the guys in the band was wearing an England football shirt. This got me to thinking; what is it about Ska that really hits the right notes with the English? Not sure I had the answer to that one. Perhaps someone can enlighten me some day...

It hadn't been long since we'd been collectively blown away by Reeps One, so there was an audible murmur of anticipation from the crowd as he returned to the stage with Squab. Formed from two members of Clay Pigeon, this is a new project. Two guitarists and a beatbox. It's not something you often see or hear. And it's not something I would have raced along to see had it been described to me in that way. But this was really good. By this time, I think it's fair to say that Reeps One had established himself as a firm crowd favourite. And rightly so. I will definitely be trying to find him at Glastonbury. Foxfest had delivered again. This really was an embarassment of musical richness. And all for 6 quid!!

Johnny gave a great introduction to the next act Up-C Down-C. He told us that when he'd seen them for the first time, they had blown him clean out of his converse (at least he kept to the musical theme for an introduction, as I recall Clare seeming to be a fan of someone's sexy arse earlier in the day). This sounded interesting, so I moved up towards the front of the stage. I think I had a pretty good idea what was coming next as I looked at the vast array of effects pedals, and the Orange amp. I looked around and realised everyone else wasn't quite so close as I was. Maybe they knew something I didn't. As the band kicked off, it was patently obvious that they did indeed know something I didn't. This was loud. Very very loud. But awesomely good. They're a four piece instrumental rock band from Gillingham, in the mould of Mogwai, who I've seen before but I didn't have the opportunity to get as close to them as I was to Up-C Down-C. I'm not sure if this was an entirely good idea however, as I don't think my ears actually recovered until Tuesday. I nearly fell over laughing when a chap stuck his head right in front of one of the amps trying to take a photo. He spun away reeling in pain. But this wasn't a painful performance. They've written some amazingly powerful and moving songs. I loved every second. And the two quid for the CD was a bargain.

We were coming up to the finale of the night, but first up was Heath over on the acoustic stage. Like Their Hearts Were Full of Spring last night, this was a performance that was fun, endearing, and so so good. He's a real crowd favourite here and you can see why. Fantastic stage presence with a great sense of humour, he brought the crowd to fever pitch. I double took when I saw the crowd surfing. Yes, crowd surfing. In the fox. Totally unbelievable. As was the cover of Bohemian Rhapsody. He's a bit of a foxfest regular so I'm lead to believe. And that's understandable, I can't wait to see him again next year myself! This really should have been the final act of the night, as it ended with all the laughter and smiles that made this weekend so endearing. But there was one more band to come.

King of Conspiracy gave the final performance of the night. But somehow, it just didn't feel right after Heath. Don't get me wrong, I love a loud tight band, and this was a great performance for sure. But I couldn't help feeling that Heath should have ended it, not them. I looked around me, and I think a number of other people felt the same. There were less people, and we were all a little muted. That was a bit of a pity, as I think I'd still like to give them another listen.

So there it was. My first foxfest. All over until next year. You will not believe how much I have bored people telling them how good the whole event was. But it really was that good. Believe me. Go next year if you can. You will not regret it for a moment.

I've got a feeling that in the time of writing this and the next articles I will have become myspace friends and/or fans of a few more people. It will be useful to do at the very least as I think I'm going to struggle to remember who was on. Luckily, with the help of the flyer from the festival, the notes I made and the rather helpful live blog that Dan made at the time, I think I'll piece it all together.

First a big apology to the acts I missed at the start of the fest. They are in no particular order Heath, Let Our Enemies Beware, Grim Hilde, Shaun Grimsley, Wonk Unit, Monkish, Glass and 23 Frames . Bugger. Now I write them all down like this, I realise I missed quite a lot. Must try harder next year...

Well, I would have arrived earlier if:

a) I'd not been up late with some friends who'd crashed over at mine
b) I'd have got my act together earlier, and not lay around in bed vainly trying to catch up from the night before, but most irritatingly,
c) The fact that I'd circled the immediate vicinity of the venue a number of times looking for a parking spot.

Actually I think I may have heard a little of Glass and then later 23 Frames as I waited at the traffic lights. But Jane didn't help the performance telling me I had reached my destination over and over again. God she can be so irritating. Only this time instead of it being perfectly obvious that I had reached my destination by looking out the window, I could also hear it. But to no avail. No parking to be had. Not anywhere near though. So round and round I went as the clock ticked by. And Jane kept talking...

But I was lucky. Very lucky as it turned out as I walked in as Miss Jo Williams was performing on the acoustic stage. What a start to my fest. The crowd was hushed and attentive listening to what was for me an exceptional start to an exceptional event. Her voice has a beguiling quality, tremendously expressive and beautiful, backed by some simple well executed guitar playing. I walked over to the bar, bought a drink and was captivated. I knew that this was going to be a brilliant evening. Thanks Jo.

It's at this point I then got the idea of how the venue worked. Two stages at either end of the pub. One is the acoustic stage and the other is er... the not acoustic stage. So up on this other stage was Hindley. I confess I didn't see much of them as I remained at the other side of the pub chatting. But they sounded pretty decent from where I was sat. What made this possible for me was discovering that there was a big screen to see the band if you couldn't be bothered walking all of 10 yards forward to see the bands. So lazy...

Back at the acoustic stage, was Robert Rorison. I didn't need to move to see him, which was good, but I quickly discovered that this wasn't a venue to be lazy in. You might think that you'd found the best place to settle down to listen to a set, but no sooner had you found it then someone stood in the way. So, up on my feet to catch his act, which I enjoyed. Some great songs of his own with some quality covers thrown in for good measure.

Next up were David Goo and the Variety Band. Now this is interesting. I know I enjoyed this. A lot. But my notes read something along of "Goo: A lot of fun". Hmmm. Well I know they were a lot of fun. I had my first dance of the day to them. I loved them - it was certainly not what I expected. It's one of those ones I think that's best left by saying go see them for yourself. It says on their website they'll be at Glastonbury. I'll try and catch them there for sure. I'm sure they'll be even better with a few ciders down the hatch...

Back to the acoustic stage for Clare Portman. I said in a previous post that I couldn't wait to see her perform. So, it was with much anticipation that I stood and listened to a really quite breathtaking set. I've listened to her album Little Red quite a lot recently, so it was nice to hear some new material (new to me at least - she's very popular in these parts). I loved her two new songs, one of which she wrote for her best friend, which was really touching as she stood there and listened. Her cover of "I drove all night" was also quite superb. But it was all over too quickly. Even when she found that she had time for a quick encore by popular request. Was it worth the wait? You bet. Can't wait to see her again.

Next up were the unfortunate Ocarina. Unfortunate? Well, only in my mind I guess. But I think they were going to struggle to compete with the previous act. But that's not fair on them at all. They were in actual fact one of the most orginal, innovative bands I'd seen over the two days. How to describe them? Their myspace page describes their music as Trip Hop / Breakbeat / Psychedelic. What they don't say is that they do it with some rather delightful strings. I have to be entirely honest here, I didn't actually get it that much at the time, but now I'm listening to their music as I write this, I want to try them again. Follow the link and give them a listen.

Back to the acoustic stage. So, you'll get the picture now, it's quite metronomic. Almost hypnotic. Back and forth. One stage to the other. But it all works. All festivals should do this. No hanging about. Just turn around and watch the next act. Let me tell you, the crew at the fox are truly awesome. Good work guys. So, Matt Daley begins playing. And what a set this is. Brilliant and enjoyable use of the loop pedal. Nice soothing reggae. Lovely.

The thing I really enjoyed about this fest was the breadth of talent that was on show. And I loved the way the lineup was put toether so that you never became too comfortable listening to one style of music. Just as the nice warm feeling that Matt gave us was really beginning to take hold, Bleech kicked in. A really exciting three piece that are beginning to get some real attention they are Jennifer on Guitar and vocals, Matt on drums and Katherine on Bass. The thing that struck me most was that they were as visually appealing as their music was enthralling. Jennifer's tangled hair masking her face as she powered through the songs with a real old school rock attitude, whilst Katherine the bleached blonde barefoot bassist marched up and down. Matt not wanting to be forgotten provided the entertainment between the songs. The stand out song for me was "Is it true that boys don't cry", a real indie box of delights. Go see them if you get the chance.

Guess what happened next? We turned around, back to the acoustic stage for Russell Joslin. The set didn't get off to a good start for Russell as he broke a string. It took a little while to sort out, but it wasn't a problem. These things happen. It was however, a difficult performance to listen to. I'm not sure why. Perhaps it was me, but he seemed a bit uncomfortable on the stage. I'm listening to his music now on his myspace page and I have to say I'm enjoying it. So it's not the song writing that I didn't like (give them a listen, they're good). I don't know. Maybe it's the flip side of the different music styles that were on display - maybe after Bleech I couldn't quite get into Russell's particular groove. But I think, judging by the reception of the now large crowd in the fox, I was in a very small minority.

The next band Ten City Nation were special. Really special. A brilliant noisy, spectacular 3 piece. Tremendously energetic, with some great tunes they really took the roof off. And what a perfect venue to see them, as Seymour, their guitarist went nuts. Quality. As I watched them, I was drawn into wondering how he'd met Mike the bassist. As two opposite looking people as you could see in a band. Seymour, the lithe geeky looking guitarist with the wedge and the glasses, jumping up and down, falling around, struggling to stay on the stage, standing next to Mike, the tall much more robust bassist. Both feet planted firmly on the ground at all times. All held together by some top drumming by Neil. Superb. Not sure why I didn't buy their album for a quid. No bother I downloaded it from their website. Although it's not a patch on the way they play live. I might even go see them again tomorrow.

So, once more back to the acoustic stage. But this next band wasn't acoustic. Oh no. Breton were no such thing. Well, discounting the drummer. Which I guess was acoustic. Kind of. But the other two were knob twiddling. No other words for it, but unlike Justice they play their stuff very very live. I am told that this was very much experimental for them, as I was lead to believe that they really do play guitars and stuff, but by jove this was good. I've seen Holy Fuck a couple of times, and they're pretty damned good at this kind of stuff, but they've been doing it for years. So if this really was an off the cuff performance from these boys then this really was sensational. Somehow they even kept it together when the drum kit appeared to fall apart in the middle of the set. Fantastic beats, searing bass, and skillfull tight drumming made this the stand out performance of the night for me. Totally unexpected, and the crowd went absolutely nuts for it.

It was coming up to the end of a long day, and I think a lot of people were beginning to feel the pace, so it was perfect timing to have Breton do their thing. Because I think this was the band that people here were waiting for. They're called Their Hearts Were Full of Spring and are quite clearly a crowd favourite here. And rightly so. A tremendously delicious band to look at, they really deserved their top billing tonight. With fantastic songs played with real passion and perhaps more importantly, with a great sense of fun, the band ended the night on the greatest of highs. So many smiles, with love and laughter passing between the band and the crowd, this was something to see. Something you might only see at something like foxfest. What a way to end the night.

Think of the best festival experience you've ever had. What made it special? Was it the people you were with? The music? Or was it just that you were in the right place at the right time?

Now think of the best party you've ever been to. What made that special? What made you stay? Did you fall about laughing after having drunk too much? Or was it just that you had such the best time with all the people you know and love, that you truly couldn't think of a better place to be?

Now imagine a pub in South East London. Think of somewhere that's not so glamorous, what some people might describe as off the beaten track. Walk past a friendly security man at the front. It's dark. It's full of people. As your eyes become accustomed to the light, you can see at the back of the room a stage. Someone's singing. But you can't see anyone on the stage at the far end. She's got a stunning voice. So beautiful. Slowly you turn around to the other stage. You're not expecting that, but there sat on a stool is the source of the music. Captivated, you slowly turn around. There's a tap on your shoulder, a big hello and a huge hug from a friend. The music stops. Applause. Genuine affection for the artist from the audience. At the back of the room, there's a man on the microphone on the other stage. He's calling you over to listen to the next act. Another band begins to play...

You've arrived at Foxfest. The best festival you've ever been to. A weekend party like no other. It's all of these things. Yet something much more. It's a work of unadulterated love brought to you by an unbelievably talented and passionate group of musicians, artists and friends. Never in my life have I felt so privileged to have seen and heard so much talent in a single weekend. Never have I been to a festival where the artists are the audience; where time and again these artists are greeted with such enthusiasm that it genuinely took my breath away.

Stay a little longer and you'll discover why. This really is one big family party you've come to. Look around and you'll soon discover that everyone seems to know each other. The crew on the sound desk, the hosts, the photographers, the videographers, the bands, the bar staff, the bloggers, technicians and security.

This whole thing is an labour of love; love for music, love for friends and a love for building a true artistic community, of which I was unaware of until but a few weeks ago. It's based around the Fox and Firkin (or just plain "The Fox" to it's friends), together with an internet radio station Kooba Radio, (and the recently launched Kooba TV). In some way or another, seemingly everyone I spoke to had a connection with one or the other and almost always both.

And not a single big ego to be seen, which is remarkable as there's some big talent on show throughout the weekend. And not just on the stages. This was an immensely well organised event. Nearly 40 acts on two stages over two days is not easy to organise. And it went off perfectly. For that alone, I stand in admiration of Carl, who brought it all together.

And then there's the music. If I were to say that this was an unsigned band festival, then it would not quite convey the sheer breadth of music that was performed. This wasn't a homogeneous indie line up, with identikit indie bands wearing matching skinny jeans performing the same tunes one after the other. Far from it.

We had punk bands, signer songwriters, electronica, beatbox, ska, pop, reggae, rock, jazz, folk, classical and indie. We had guitars, we had trumpets, we had cellos, basses and violins. There were horns and saxes. There were drums, xylophones, tambourines, maraccas. Cowbells and triangles. Soft words and screams. Sweet harmonies and harsh discordant cries from the heart.

I can honestly say that there was not one bad performance out of the probably 30 or so that I saw (I sadly missed a few). Think about that for a moment. Every band, every artist was memorable and I hope to write some more about them all in later articles.

We'll all go to other festivals, other gigs. We'll see great bands. We'll see some amazing sights. We'll have great times with our friends. But none of them, not one, will ever be quite as good as this.

My thanks to all at the Fox and all involved with Kooba Radio and TV for letting me into your wonderful community. It was a truly jaw dropping experience from beginning to end.

Please can I come again next year?

Full band reviews for Saturday can be found here and Sunday's bands are reviewed here.

Odd one this. I've never reviewed 2 gigs at the same time. I'm not sure it's ever been attempted before. Maybe this is a world first. I do hope so as it's always good to be the first to do something.

Anyway. Its probably pertinent to answer the question as to why I'm reviewing both gigs at the same time. There are many reasons, but I guess the one that needs to be addressed first is the one that sticks in my craw the most. On the way home from the koko gig I was mugged. Nothing violent. No harm done. But it still sucked. I'd had a great time at the gig, and I was planning to write it up on the way back. But then calling the police kind of got in the way. And somehow I never got to write the review. And not a single one since. I'm not using it as an excuse. How can I? But from that point on, I never kept this blog up to date. An excuse? Who knows.

But I rememeber that night just under a year ago. I was never lucky enough to see Husker Du. I was stupid enough to miss Sugar at the Manchester Academy all those years ago. But how I love Bob Mould's music. One of the true greats of music, despite pushing 50; a legend, an innovator and an inspiration to the following generation of musicians and artists to follow. If you don't believe me just google his name.

This year (2009), he celebrates the 20th anniverary of his debut solo album "Workbook". Tempted as I am to review this album and many others, i'll leave it at this; he has a whole lifetime of songs to choose from when he performs. He's a true talent as a performing artist, but more importantly as a singer songwriter.

But for me, a fan who owns as many of his recordings as I can get hold of, and a veteran of a few of his gigs, a dichotomy emerges. Hearing the man play with a small focussed well rehearsed band is an experience for which I have yet to find a match. Songs crash into one another like a relentless east coast storm. No break between the songs. Every one as taut and strained as the last. A masterpiece of simple, plaintive songwriting. But all of them, without exception driven by the quick syncopated fusion of bass and drums, topped off with a sweat soaked wall of sound from quick driven guitars that came to define the sound of post punk rock in the 90s.

And in hearing it performed by Mould and his band is something to hear. Loud. Tight. Relentless. I honestly can't compare something to Bob Mould when he's on the edge with a well rehearsed band. And at Koko, he went back to some of the material he'd previously refused to play. The set took us through the Husker Du years, through Workbook, Black Sheets of Rain, the Sugar Years, and ending with his then most recent album District Line. Of the Husker Du material, "I apologize" was the stand out song of a truly stunning encore. There was no coming back from this performance for me. It was the end of it all, the retirement speech. End of the line. No more.

But he wasn't done. Then there was the album "Life and Times". The album and supporting tour was announced on his blog with the lines "Yes. There's a new album. Yes, there's going to be a tour. Yes, there will be a band". I bought the tickets the day they were released.

I'd emailed a friend earlier in the day hoping that he was coming with a band. I knew there wasn't a band deep down. I'd seen him a couple of times before without one. They weren't good. And so I walked throught the doors a little late, a little drunk and very optimistic that I'd be wrong. I heard the voice. I heard the guitar.

Good.

And then I listened for the bass. The drums, and the tightness, the togetherness, and most importantly,the songs I love.

I heard Bob. I heard the guitar. I walked in, disappointed. I wasn't the only one. Bob and guitar. The guitar and Bob. Only the songs needed more.

Am I being unfair? Would I be upset if I turned up to a football match expecting to see something special and only finding a team of 3? Would I turn up to the symphony only to find the brass, the percussion and the woodwind weren't there and be happy?

I don't think so. That wouldn't detract from the efforts of the individuals involved. Far from it; they would try that much harder I think as Mould did tonight. But the end result was a fraud. A diminished experience. The fans knew that. I knew that. And Mould knew it. It turned into one of those embarrassing middle aged gigs where the die hard fans heaped praise on their hero and he returned the love. But with not a single special memory to take home.

I'd dreamed for years to hear him play "Celebrated Summer". I can't fault the way he performed it. But can one man aged nearly 50 with his guitar truly do justice to this? Truth be told. It felt wrong.

We all get old. Bob Mould is no exception. He's moved on. He loves electronica. He's a respected DJ on the East Coast Gay club scene. It's where his heart lies. He can make album after album of genuine post punk mid-life rock. He can perform it. And perform it well.

But you get the impression he doesn't want to much these days. He really wasn't interested. I wasn't either. Not tonight.

Its been some time since I bought some music. I've been thinking about this recently. I had the slightly scary thought that this may have been something to do with not having as much time for music as I used to. Well, all things are possible as I appear to have less time for this blog. Which is a bit of a shame (for me at the least).

So, the music buying hiatus has come to an end. Kind of. I got this album for free. And before the PRS comes running after me, I was lucky enough to be given it by Clare herself after having listened to some of her music on myspace.

Clare lists her influences as Jewel, Sarah McLachlan, Tori Amos, Sheryl Crow, Jeff Buckley, Counting Crows and Turin Brakes. I'll be honest here (and I hope she never reads this) but this didn't exactly fill me with a great deal of enthusiasm as I waited for her first song to start playing. I actually have no idea who Jewel is at all, but I know I'm not such a big fan of the others.

Don't get me wrong. I like a singer songwriter as much as the next music fan. But Sheryl Crow isn't on my playlist. Never will be. No sirree.

Until now that is. For if that's the music that influences this rather unassuming but truly endearing collection of songs then I'll give it another go. Promise. (Even if she was engaged to Lance Armstrong, but we'll save that for another time).

"There are many shades of me", she sings in the opening track. It would be easy to label this album as just another story of love, loss and regret. But to do so would be to do the music and the song writing a great disservice. Clare's brilliance is to let us into her life with such a brutal honesty but tell us her story with a delightful delicacy in her musicianship and songwriting.

This is an album of great simplicity. Songs and emotions stripped to the bone. But that's not to say the music isn't challenging. From the vocal adventure of "All yours now" to the haunting strings in "Mum's Song", she displays a gift for composition that merits a wider audience.

But at the core is her talent as both a guitarist and a singer. Her voice at times brings a quite unexpected soulful flavour to her songs which adds an unusual texture to her guitar playing. And the light touch production of this album let them both speak for themselves. For me the stand out song, "Never Been" exemplifies everything that she does well. A song that despite repeated listening remains for me an enigma; neither mournful or hopeful. It it is quite simply, in her own words, another shade of her.

There are indeed many shades to Clare, "some you haven't seen yet", she continues in the opening song. I do get the impression that there is much more that we have yet to hear. Each song gives us a chance to see just a little bit more. And just for good measure she rounds it all off with "Standing before you", a song of such powerful raw emotion and vulnerability it just makes you play the whole album again.

So, I was lucky enough to tell her how much I liked her music tonight. She seemed a bit puzzled and she said "but you haven't seen me play yet". True. And on the strength of this album I can't wait.

http://www.myspace.com/clareportman

I'm going away tomorrow, and I'm looking forward to it. For one thing it's nice to get away and it will be nice to spend some time away with the family. And I hope it will be a time to relax and reflect.

It's now been over a year since I started this blog. It's been a time of great change for me as a person, and I wanted this blog to be a record of that. And for a time, it was all going the way I'd hoped. I wanted to move forward with my life, and I realised that for me, part of that was being honest with myself. It seems an odd thing to do to write honestly about your thoughts and leave them for the world to see, but for me it works. It's no coincidence that during the period I was writing, I had a very clear feeling that things were on the up for me.

But, then it all stopped. Everything that was working so well suddenly stopped. The optimism ebbed away. Pessimism has crept in to replace it. Let's face it. There was a crunch.

We're all familiar with the feeling today. The stock market's down. The pound is down. House prices are down. Employment is down. The whole world's heading down.

But let's get this straight. I've still got a job. I've got a new boss who I trust and respect. I've got all I need materially. I have a house and a car. I want for nothing.

But still it's not there. I have the feeling that this isn't what I want. So I ask myself, what if anything has changed? What brings me to the conclusion that I'm not that further forward than I was a year ago? After all, who would have thought that even this time last year I would have lost so much weight? Who could have guessed that I would start to cycle to work. Or run in a 10k race? Or have a nice garden. Or even (and whisper it quietly) that I could begin to like my work again?

It's often such a little event that tips things in the wrong direction. So it was with me. I knew in May that things weren't moving as quickly forward as I'd liked. I knew that night in May that I'd turned a corner in my healthy eating and drinking regime. I knew that because I was pretty drunk. And a pretty easy target for muggers.

As with these things it's over in seconds. But things changed from then on in. For a start, it exposed the fact that I'd made a mistake moving here three years ago. It made me think about where I am in my life once again. And it jolted me out of thinking it doesn't really matter where I live. Because in that instant it made me realise it did.

I don't like living here. There. I've said it. I admit it. I don't fit in here. I don't like the area. I wish I had a nice middle class flat in a nice middle class area. With nice middle class stripped floorboards. Near a nice middle class pub. Full of nice middle class people reading their nice middle class papers with their nice middle class partner.

It's taken a while to get to this point of realisation, but it's something I can't hold off forever. My choice of where I live has made a big impact on my life and it's taken such a long time to realise it. It affects the way I feel in so many ways. But mainly it gives me such a lack of confidence that I haven't achieved much that I'm apologetic about saying where I live. This has to change.

But then there's this other crunch. Only this one makes the other one worse. Should I sell? Can I sell? What should I do? I'm not the most decisive of people at the best of times. And that only makes it worse. It's a times like these one needs to be decisive. And so I sit and wait. Only I'm not sure what I'm waiting for.

I know what I want. I've said it before. One thing's for sure though, I won't find it here. I need to kick myself up the arse and keep things moving forward. I need to find that momentum again. I need to do all the good things I was doing before. Making plans, being disciplined and making progress.

It's all too easy to fall in to the trap of believing that the sky is falling in. Perhaps it is for those that believe it. But it's time for me to take responsibility for myself and prove to myself that it's not all bad news.

"So what's happened? What's new?" I'm sure anyone who reads this will recognise these questions when they catch up with someone they haven't seen for a while.

"What have you been up to?" is the killer question. You might not have seen this person for a couple of months. It might have been a little longer. Who knows? One year runs into another, doesn't it? Suddenly you're asked to sum up your life over a pint of lager and a packet of cheese and onion. The only problem is that the packet of crisps will probably last longer than your life summary.

Depressing doesn't quite give give this scenario justice.

So, it turns out (surprise, surprise) I was asked this tonight. My answer troubled me. It was half way through the answer that I gave that I realised I didn't have such a lot to say. I'd not been to Mozambique. I'd not met the love of my life. I'd not reorganised my worklplace to make it more efficient. What scared me was I couldn't pick up on a single thing that was worth talking about. And it was about five months since I'd seen this person.

I'm not sure what it was that worried me about revealing what's most been intersting me to the chap I was talking too. Maybe it was because I looked up to him in some way. Maybe it was that it was he that had was in a big way the inspiration to the only thing that I had to say. Maybe I was just aware that the only real thing that had had happened in my life of any importance to me really wasn't that interesting.

But there I was, talking about cycling to work as if noone has ever done it before. It's an odd thing trying to tell someone about something that's of real importance to you, but really isn't that interesting in itself. For me, cycling is a big thing. I wouldn't have imagined me cycling over a 100 miles a week even a year ago. But I'm doing it and what's more I'm loving it.

But I worry that noone wants to hear about it. I'm worried that I'm turning into a new hobby bore. Perhaps I am. Perhaps I've talked too much about it. Perhaps this entry in my blog is just a symptom of that.

Perhaps I shouldn't worry about it though. I'd much prefer to have something to say rather than nothing at all. I sometimes get the impression that when someone asks you what you've been up to they want to know the answers to the following questions ( in no particular order) :

Who have you been shagging?
Have you been on holiday?
Have you got a new job?

Other than that there's not a load of interest. So how do I answer the question?

"I keep falling off my bike"

is the best I can muster. I'm suddenly struck that this isn't much more to say than a 14 year old might say when asked the same question. This worries me a little, but is it really something to worry about? I think the question to answer would be "Are you happy?".

"You're just far too pessimistic", I was recently told.

I nearly choked on my wine. Naturally, I protested my innocence. Something about being a realist. A pragmatist. How I was only making reference to the facts as I saw them. And the facts undeniably painted a less than rosy picture. It simply wasn't fair to be portrayed as a pessimist.

But how come I've spent the last couple of months being anything other than optimistic? OK - getting mugged isn't going to make me any happier. And my mortgage going up isn't a cause for celebration. Being ripped off by cowboys who claimed to know what they're doing in a garden wasn't great. Credit crunch. Falling prices. Markets down. And the cracks were beginning to show. Quite literally in my case. I'd just finished correcting the buffoonery of my garden contractors, and was relaxing in my nice new garden. I glanced up at the back of the house. It had been quite a while since I'd done this, largely on the grounds that I wasn't actually able to get into the garden to do so, such was the neglect. But as I gazed up there it was. Was that there before? I had a vague recollection that something was mentioned in my survey when I bought the house.

Upstairs in my bedroom I checked the report from three years ago. Some cracking was apparent, it told me, but these appeared to be fairly old, so were of no cause for concern. Now, it didn't concern me at the time, as I bought the house. But I went back down and had another look. Had it deterioated? I wasn't sure. I remember that I needed to think about getting some repointing done, so I added this to the list of things I wanted to sort out. It's a long list, but never mind. Just another job.

But things are never that simple. Oh no. Not here they're not. Especially at 6am on my way out of the door with too little sleep. I was on my way to France. If this wasn't a cause for optimism I don't know what is. My bag was packed and I was off on a mini adventure in the Alps. Sweet. I locked the door and turned my back then spun around on my heels. What was that? A crack? Was that there before? I had no time to think about it. I had a train to catch. So I left, with the image in my mind.

How pessimistic can I be? It turns out that my pessimism, left unchecked, can go off on a mini adventure of it's own. A tiny crack, that may or may not have been there before, became in my fevered imagination a gaping hole - a chasm of such magnitude that it quite possibly was the gateway to hell itself. OK - I exaggerate there, but it wasn't that far off. As I walked up my road on my return, I was relieved to find my house still standing.

I spent the day looking for a surveyor. What would he tell me? I even looked to see how much I could borrow to shore up the collapsing remains of my house. It became too much. I logged off, picked up the phone and did what every pessimist does in times of peril. I dialled my mum's number. It wasn't long before I was in the bosom of my family. I needed to talk about this. Get my head straight. Get a plan and work out what to do. I was tired and worried. Worried about how much I was worrying. Worried about how serious things had got. I needed some comfort. Some words of advice, a guiding hand and words of wisdom.

"You're just far too pessimistic", wasn't exactly what I was looking for.

Less than a week later, my house was examined quite carefully by a surveyor. He poked about. He asked me questions. In truth, I think he padded out his inspection on the grounds it might have been embarrasing to charge me the full fee for telling me that I really had nothing to worry about. He told me that there really was no evidence of any recent activity. Buildings don't just stand for decades then fall down. He took a few photos and made some notes. I gave him his cheque, and he said he'd send me his report. He'd probably have to pad that out a bit as well. After all, it would probably say something along the lines of "You're just far too pessimistic".

On the bus home tonight, I was re-reading "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance". A particular passage resonated with me. Referring to his friends who were with him on a road trip, he writes how they were not enjoying themselves due to the heat on the road, and how it clouded their outlook. He writes:

"All day while I've been thinking and talking about Phaedrus they must have been thinking about how bad all this is. That's what's really wearing them down. The thought."

Have I learnt my lesson? Time will tell. All I can say is that I'm optimistic about it.

Bromley-by-Bow station is an odd place to find yourself at a quarter to twelve half scared out of your wits but at the same time glad to be there, and even more so glad of the company of fellow gig goers who turn up five minutes later on the once deserted platform.

"Well that was shit", said the guy who turned up. Despite my best attempts at looking like I'd not been to the Radiohead gig and got a bit lost on the way home, just like him and his friends, he'd clocked me. A fellow indie "kid" at the wrong end of town. I have to say I was a bit disappointed that he'd figured out I wasn't a local. But I gave myself a quick once over and it was a bit obvious to be honest. Khaki isn't exactly a street look around these parts.

"I quite liked it", I gamely replied. I didn't want to admit I was glad of the company. Someone like me. Fuck. Life's changed. Tonight of all nights. What a time to realise. Even as I'm listening to "Reckoner" as I write this, it's obvious that I'm a stranger in a strange town. It's not going to change, not now.

"They didn't play any hits", came the reply from my new found companion. OK, it wasn't an MTV tribute that's for sure. I didn't even know the last song they played if I'm being honest. But they did play "Reckoner", which was fantastic. I love the song, the way it grabs me and soothes me and scares me all at once. It's a song that seems to speak to me in a way that I can't describe, but I know for sure I'm not the only one who feels the textures, the longing, the feeling of something missed. I looked around me. I recognised the look in their eyes as I looked at the crowd around me.

"That's why you love them". I'm not sure if that was profound or just me being an arse. But I followed it up with an impressive sounding insight: "I bet you've seen them before. I bet you were surprised then. Perhaps they played all the hits. Perhaps they didn't. But what surprised you most was that they played it by their own rules". I paused. Just to take in my own magnificence. But then I remembered where I was. Just a drunk white bloke on a tube sounding like a twat. Just to be sure I looked around the tube. No one was listening or at least they were polite enough to pretend that they weren't.

"My little lad wanted to come", said the guy who I had just worked out looked a bit like Justin Lee Collins off of the Friday Night Project. Only he had shorter hair and was a bit more pissed on a tube than any media savvy celebrity would ever be.

"How old is he?", I asked. "Eight". There was a pause. I was half expecting him to say "and a quarter". But he told me he had two younger girls after I asked him why he didn't bring the lad along. But it was clear that something wasn't right. I didn't feel right. I'm not sure he did either, but for two very different reasons.

His life had changed in a tangible way. He told me how he was gutted that they were the only band who could get away with what they did tonight. What he meant was that every night out, let alone a 50 quid one, is something to be cherished. He knew his music as it turned out. Perhaps he can't afford the time to listen to something new or challenging anymore. But that's what we both agreed was the reason why we went. We had no idea what they might do. A stadium act, a global phenomenon, at once the most personal thing in the world to all who came, and at the same time, if they let us, a karaoke soundtrack for the varied lives that we all lead.

I reflected on the night. I'd spent it with friends. I'd had a good time and I'd left to go home. In my usual foolish way I went home without planning where I was going. Hackney isn't the best place to get lost in at night. I knew that, but tonight I knew my life has changed. No longer the innocent, I walked along Roman Road trying not to look as scared as I was. I knew it was written all over me. I've never felt that way before and I hated it.

"I can't listen to Kid A", said the man as we approached East Ham. "Nor can I," I replied, adding "one day, I'm sure I will.". It came on tonight as I put the stereo on. I couldn't listen to it. Too much for me. I wanted comfort and familiarity. I put "In Rainbows" on instead. I felt better as I listened to it.

There's not a band on earth who can evoke such a range of emotions from all who listen. Love. Hate. Sadness. Joy. Pain and pleasure. It's all there. It was there at Victoria Park and never mind what my travelling companion thought about the set list, he knew, as did all of us who went, that what we saw and heard tonight was a thing of frail, flawed beauty; a living work of art in these, our troubled times.

Stag and Dagger is a Camden Crawl for the East End. With more galleries. Sort of.

OK, OK, I admit it. I didn't actually see much of it. I could make excuses, but it largely boiled down to being lazy. So out of the 15 odd venues covering all sorts of genres of music and the arts, how many did I visit? Erm... two. And one of them only briefly. But I was scarred last year by the Camden Crawl. Yes, it was in Camden. And we crawled from one venue to the other trying to get in. We couldn't. And it was crap. So, I tried a whole new methodology with Stag and Dagger. I looked at the venue list and I pretty much didn't know any bands on the list apart from two. So, trying to sound knowledgeable, I picked one of the venues with a band that I recognised, and off me and a friend toddled.

We ended up in the Macbeth. From the moment we walked in it was inevitable we weren't leaving. Bar? Check. Music? Check. Sofa? There was a sofa. It was unoccupied. Not for long. Drinks bought, we settled down to listen to the music. And you know what? I don't regret for one moment not moving much from that sofa.

First up (for us at least) were Dead Kids. I'm not sure if I've seen a band so hardcore as this, stuffed into such a tiny stage in a packed pub. The front man, was a nutter. Demonic but intelligent, with the intensity of Henry Rollins. There was a great point in the set when he jumped on the stage and cajoled the crowd. Then tried to pour himself a drink as if the barman was distracted by the mayhem. He wasn't. A tug of war started over a frothy pint of stella. The barman relented, and the singer smiled. I'm going to check this band out again.

A word on the venue. It was a pub. With lots of people in. The toilets were at the opposite end of the pub by the stage. There were lots of people between the sofa and the toilet. Most were lovely. One wasn't. I don't often come across someone I'd describe as pompous, sanctimonious and jumped up in the middle of a crowd at a gig. But there I was being lectured about how I should get through an over full venue by someone who's day job is obviously a housing officer in a South London council. I thanked him for his advice. It was the least I could do.

Next up were Example. Hip hop. Sort of. To tell the truth, I'm not that much of a fan. But the crowd seemed to dig them. Best I can say is check their myspace page. Anyway, I was pleased when the next band came on. Operator Please changed the pace from Example. In such a small venue, with such an excitable crowd, they seemed to know what to do. They had fun. The crowd had fun. But there's not much more to say about them that I haven't already said about this band in previous entries.

Last up were The Mike Strutter Group. By the time they'd started, then I have to say that sofa had become just too comfortable. I was having a good time, just not really paying much attention to the music. It started, then it stopped. I don't remember it being bad. But I don't have a clear recollection of it either. I blame the lager. Mind you, I always blame the lager.

So there it was. 15 venues. I saw two. It was all good though. I'd heard stories similar to the Camden Crawl about the crowds. I think I got the right idea though. Stick in one venue. Go along with some great company. Make sure there's a sofa. And then stay there. I know it defeats the whole object of these type of events, but maybe, just maybe, they don't actually work too well.

Still, I had a good time. Topped off by a fantastic Brick Lane salt beef bagel. Yum yum

http://www.myspace.com/youaredeadkids
http://www.myspace.com/leadingbyexample
http://www.myspace.com/operatorplease
http://www.myspace.com/mikestrutter

There are times when I really truly wonder why I bother buying tickets to see gigs. This was one of them. When I booked these tickets I'd read something nice about Lightspeed Champion, probably in an NME. They were raving about him. And what with him being involved with the now defunct Test Icicles, how could I resist?

Quite apart from the fact I'd never heard the Test Icicles, and therefore had absolutely no idea what I was letting myself in for, I'd completely forgotten to check the diary and missed that it was immediately after a bank holiday weekend. Now, that's not so bad, all things considered. I'd spent the previous day on a nice walk in the sunshine. I was so enthused about the sunshine I called my mate to enjoy it with me. So we had a beer to celebrate. Thing is, it was really sunny, so we really celebrated long into the night.

I wasn't much for celebrating the next day. I looked at the tickets at work, not enthusiastic. I struck on a good idea. I'm sure I mentioned these tickets to my pal. I emailed him and asked him if he wanted them. "Sure", he replied, "what time shall we meet?".

Bugger. Wasn't getting out of this was I? So, reluctantly, off I headed to Camden. It wasn't so bad, the sun was still shining and I enjoyed my walk through the park. In Camden, I nearly crashed into a strange looking fellow with a tremendous looking hat. Quite out of the ordinary, even for Camden. The oddest thing was I was sure I recognised the chap. Couldn't quite put my finger on it though.

After a quick pint in the tup, we headed off to the venue. I like Koko. It's improved a lot since the old Palace days. At least your feet don't stick to the carpet anymore. Well, to be fair, they wisely took the carpet up and replaced it with shiny wooden floors. But it's a great venue.

It was also loud. Or more to the point, the first band were. Bloody, gratingly, annoyingly loud. And quite honestly awful. And I'm glad I saw them as a support act, because I nearly bought a ticket to see them top of the bill once to see what the fuss was about. Ox. Eagle. Lion. Man. are not my cup of tea. My mate pointed out that their words were probably quite poetic and meaningful. It's just that you can't bear to listen to them because the music really doesn't encourage you to try.

I was pleasantly surprised to see the next band get on stage. It was Operator Please. I'd seen them earlier in the year in Wimbledon. And they played pretty much the same set tonight. I thought that they're beginning to find their feet in the UK, as they sounded tighter, more focussed and, well, way more fun than they did in Wimbledon. I really think they're going to peak during the festivals, so if you get a chance, go see them.

As Operator Please left the stage, I could honestly say that I could have gone home happy, but the main event was to come. After a short while, an old friend came on. No, hang on, it was that bloke I'd bumped into on the high street. Lightspeed Champion. Man of the people. In a hat.

It's at this point I struggle with a review. I'm hopeless at describing music. How can I describe it? Don't know. Er... Acoustic.. ish.. Pop... ish... Indie... ish.. I liked it though. I liked it a lot to say I want to see him again. The band was superb, which greatly adds to the Dev's voice which is outstanding. Talking of outstanding voices, he was joined on stage by Emmy the Great, who added vocals and strings. I wasn't expecting that, and it only added to my enjoyment of some fabulous songs, played by a great band.

Not a lot more to say really - I loved the gig. Apparently there was a big celebrity following there as well. I've never heard of Alexa Cheung. Perhaps you have. She's famous apparently. She was there. So was Kelly Osbourne. Whoever they are, they've got great taste in music, obviously. Great gig. Great night. It only goes to show, sometimes all the signs of it being a really crap evening count for nothing.

http://www.myspace.com/oxeaglelionman
http://www.myspace.com/operatorplease
http://www.myspace.com/lightspeedchampion

I'm tired. For all the right reasons, but I'm tired. In actual fact, I should really be in bed right now but for writing this article. But it's a tough life being a blogger. Especially when you wonder if anyone will be reading it, or more importantly, if they do, they actually find it interesting.

Anyway, I digress. I'm tired because I've had such a good weekend. And that's not bad seeing as I'm writing this on Wednesday night. It all started on the Friday evening with a game of football. A few of us have been getting together recently to have a game on a Friday. It's been really good to have an opportunity to play 11-a side for a change. We're clearly not very good as we've lost every game we've played. So, obviously a full tactical debrief is required in the boozer afterwards.

It was a thorough debrief. I'd talked so much my mouth was dry in the morning. What was also strange was that my head was thumping and I didn't appear to remember much of the tactical dissection of our game. So I stayed in bed a little longer to see if I could remember it. I didn't, but I blame that on the headache that wouldn't go away all day.

It wasn't so bad that I couldn't go to dinner in the evening on the Saturday. The food was very good, but the service was woeful. But all that waiting for the food and drinks to arrive gave me loads of time to catch up with some old friends I hadn't seen for a while. While we waited (and waited) for the bill, another friend arrived at the restaurant. He'd come over from Islington on a night on the beers and looked a bit disappointed that he'd left his beer, his mates and spent 20 quid on a taxi only to find we were all going home. Obviously we couldn't disappoint him, so I stayed out for a few more beers.

I was disappointed to find I'd missed the last tube. By two hours. So, a night bus was required, which actually wasn't that bad (thanks to Ken - sorry I didn't vote for you). But it was another night that I'd stayed out late, and another one that I'd had a few more beers than I'd wanted to. Unlike the Sunday, where I knew I'd be having some beers.

It was the last game of the season, so the plan was to go to the match, have a few drinks and go for a curry. And that's precisely what we did. But what made it special was that I was able to catch up with another old friend at the ground and at the pub afterwards. We talked a bit about football, but spent most of the time reflecting on how his life has changed now he's a dad. He didn't stay out too long, as he had to go home to bath his son. I hope I don't leave it so long till I see him next time.

Monday was supposed to be quiet. The plan was to go somewhere, sit in the sun and eat and relax. I could manage that. I seriously think I couldn't manage anything else. There was no danger that this could get out of hand. The friends I was meeting were not such big drinkers. So obviously we met in a pub. For drinks. The pub was so busy that they weren't serving food. So, we went to find some food in Kensington. The food and the company were superb. As were the drinks. We were so pleased, that we met up with some other friends at the pub for more drinks.

It was at this stage, I protested that I couldn't take it anymore. I had to go home. "Nonsense!", I was told. Come to the cinema. What could I do? I've been meaning to go to see what the place was like for sometime and it was absolutely fantastic. Where else can you settle down in leather seats each with a foot rest as you sip on a cold pint of Guinness. Oops. So much for the quiet Monday. Although that really wasn't on my mind as I tumbled on to the last tube of the evening.

I'd clearly not anticipated that I'd have such a busy weekend when I'd bought the tickets for the gig on Tuesday. I held them in my hands at work and my head swam. I really didn't fancy going. But what a waste of the tickets. So I phoned a mate to see if he wanted them. "Cool", he said, "What time shall I meet you?". That didn't go well at all. He really wasn't the bloke to go to a gig with if I fancied a quiet night. More beers. More late night tube journeys.

It was all fantastic. I shouldn't really have drunk so much. I really needed to eat a bit better. But it was all worth it. I have at times in my life forgotten just how important my friends are to me. I've sometimes neglected them. It's something that we're all a bit guilty of from time to time. But that's no reason not to keep making an effort. Everyone I caught up with over the weekend had their stories to tell. Some happy and some sad. Some of my friends I didn't see, but they weren't far from my mind. It's our friends and family who get us through it all as we make our way through our lives.

It's a part of my life that I identified in my recipe. With such good friends, and such a good weekend, it was a really great way to underline how important my friends are to me. I hope I never forget it.

Its been quite a busy week for me again. I've spent the last week at a training course in Hammersmith. It's been really good and has been a really tremendous learning experience. The course was called Guerilla Enterprise .NET, which is run by the folks at Developmentor. I'd been on the Guerilla .NET course back in 2005, and it was good to get back to seeing what's going on out there in the real world. Another really cool feature of these courses is that they are really international affairs. Out of 15 students, only 3 were British. Only one out of the three instructors was English too. I think there were representatives from Switzerland, Slovenia, Germany, Belgium, Latvia and France. Probably more. They all, of course shamed the Brits with their language skills.

What I like about these courses is that there's a tremendous breadth and depth to the coverage of the courses. This one was primarily concerned with the two out of the three frameworks that appeared in .Net 3.0, the Windows Communications Foundation and the Windows Workflow Foundation both of which I''m really excited about getting to grips with and deploying into real world situations.

I don't want this article to be a whine, but over the last six months as I've concentrated on other aspects of my life, it's not gone unnoticed that in my professional life I've got to pick up the pace a bit. I discussed the pace of change in technology with one of the delegates on the course. We both agreed that the pace is quickening to a point where it's getting impossible to keep abreast of everything as we were once able to ten tears ago. But my main problem is that I'm not doing this stuff every day of my working life. And that's got to change. I can't afford to fall behind. It's a problem that so many of us in the industry are grappling with.

This presents me with a bit of a problem. I know that there's potentially fertile ground to apply these sort of technologies at work, but I'm also aware of the pace of change there. My greatest fear is that by the time we're in a position to deploy this type of technology, the ground will have shifted once more.

So what's a geek to do? I think the key as far as I'm concerned is this: Become knowledgeable and enthusiastic about the goodness that the new technology brings. Tell people about what you can do with it as often as you can. Impress them with it. If you fail to impress them with it, and you truly do believe in what you can do, then it's perhaps time to talk to someone else.

When push comes to shove, I'm not one of those guys who's always on the bleeding edge. I never will be. In fact I'm quite the opposite. "If it ain't broke, why fix it?" is a fine maxim. But it's inevitable that things in software change. You can either embrace the change of bury your head in the sand. The danger in not moving forward is that your software becomes more and more difficult to support as the skills required to do so dry up. Before you know it, your software is broken by default. No-one can fix it. Worse, no-one wants to fix it.

Time waits for no man. Least of all for a software architect. Every day, the clock ticks ever louder. I'm going to have to run faster just to stand still. Fun isn't it?

To anyone who regularly reads this blog, it can't have escaped your notice that it's not been updated recently. That's not been intentional but I've been otherwise engaged. Nothing exciting mind - it's just left me with little energy or inclination to keep the blog up to date. It's not permanent, so for the record I'll be back to updating it a little bit more regularly.

So what's kept me so busy recently? Well, I've been debating whether to share this with the outside world or not, but, what the hell. I've spent the last three weeks cleaning, cataloging, cleaning, recording and cleaning. What, you might be asking, would necessitate me to do that? I've had a wee domestic problem caused by bed bugs.

Like many other people, I didn't even realise that they still were a problem, but they are as I've just found out. I've got no idea where they came from, but they came to light when I did my spring cleaning about a month ago. Naturally, I was horrified. I called in the professionals. I'm glad I did. According to the man who came round, it seems that they're a growing problem in London. The company I engaged do not merely spray the affected areas. As part of their treatment program, the client is required to monitor and inspect the affected areas rigorously. After two weeks, a thorough deep clean is also required.

The problem is that the buggers are adept at hiding even in the smallest places. This means that the clutter that I'd had around my bed (books, papers, magazines etc) needed checking page by page. That's right. Page by page. In addition, I've been laundering like you wouldn't believe. I've bought storage boxes for the laundered items. I've thrown stuff out. I've even invested in a steam cleaner. In short, it's not been any fun.

But the good news is that it all seems to be working. And I'm of course really happy about that. But, I'm guessing you might want to know why I'm sharing this with the world. After all, it's not something you really want to share with all and sundry. I'd put it on a par with acquiring an STD. It happens (although thankfully not to me), but it's something you really want to keep to yourself. But it's one of those things that I think I want to make sure that people are aware of. Especially if you live in London, or indeed any big city. Once established, they're not easy to get rid of. It's best to know what you're looking for in the first place. So from me to you, my advice is this. Make sure you know that these little creatures do exist. Check carefully that there are none living with you. Do it regularly, because according to the chap who came to help me, the problem only looks set to get worse and worse. Be warned.

It's been a little while since I've seen ¡Forward Russia!. I'd seen them three times when they were touring their most excellent first album Give Me a Wall. In particular, the gig in the Garage in searingly hot temperatures in July 2006 stands out for me as one of my all time favourite gigs, not least because of my awful drunken attempts to start a conversation with the band in the bar afterwards.

Since then, the band have gone back to the studio to record their (tricky) second album, Life Processes. I only bought it a few days before the gig, but played it enough times to be familiar with the new material by the time I arrived at KCSU. I like the venue - it's the only one that gives you the chance to meet the artists on the lift on the way up to the stage which is on the 4th floor of a very utilitarian building just off the strand. It's a great size, and being a student venue, the staff are pretty friendly.

Anyway - back to the band. Or rather, back to the band before the band. We'd caught one of the support band's entire set. They weren't bad. But weren't especially good either to be honest. Their material was a bit akin to a Mogwai tribute. But without the talent. Sorry chaps, I couldn't be bothered to find out your name. It's not that the performance was bad - it was just plain boring. And that's a shame because the band they were supporting are anything but.

It came as quite a relief then when ¡Forward Russia! did come on, and they came on in their now familiar rather cool looking band T-Shirts. They're a four piece. They're a strange looking bunch. The lead singer Tom is thin and wiry, with straggly hair, and the guitarist is a beardy type (who I think is called Whiskas - well one of them is and it seems to fit him best) and a rather cute drummer, Katie. Oh and the other one's called Rob. They started with a track called "Spring is a Condition" from the new album "Life Processes". It was a good start. From then on in, the band played a mixture of new and old, but with the clear emphasis on the new material. Tom introduced the first of the older stuff in a rather disadainful manner, acknowledging that we perhaps liked the older stuff more than the new. And to be honest, when they can be compared one against the other like they could when played live it's fairly obvious to me that the newer songs don't stand up to the older ones.

That's a real pity - as part of the charm of the band is the frenetic nature both of the music and the dancing of Tom. It's quite obvious that the new songs are at once more deliberate, more insisting that you take them a bit more seriously. But it really doesn't work as well. Even when performing the stand out song of the new album "Gravity and Heat", the band don't seem to perform with the same level of, well, madness. And like I said, that's a pity. Second albums are always difficult and I think the second album for them is just an example of this well known phenomena in music making.

They finished with the last two songs on the new album "A Shadow is a Shadow is a Shadow" and "Spanish Triangles". The former was pretty good, but I'm not a fan of the second as it's clearly a end of album/gig fadeout song. Way way too cliched for my liking.

Still, I went home happy. Perhaps I'll wait for a third album before I see them again. It's not that I don't like the newer songs, it's more that the band seem deternined that we should prefer them to the older ones. No chance, Tom. Sorry.

http://www.forwardrussia.com/

Thirty six years old. Try that out for size. How does that sound? Too old? Am I getting old? Am I acting my age? Thirty six years old. So this is how it feels. Staring middle age in the face, bit by bit losing sight of my youth. Thirty six years old. Funny. Isn't it at this point I'm supposed to remind myself that I feel exactly the same as I did when I was 35? That I'm not getting older. That I'm still the same guy I was at 25? But I think I do feel a bit different. It's been a long time coming, but being thirty six is probably the age I've been most prepared for in my life. I'm thirty six years old and feel pretty good about it.

Well, strictly speaking I feel pretty good today. But I don't think I did for the two days following my birthday. Oh no. I'm fairly sure there used to be a time when a night down the pub with a few friends wouldn't require me to take a day off the next day, and if I did take the day off I wouldn't be spending that precious day off feeling sorry for myself. Because I now suffer from two day hangovers. Which gave me a lot of time to philosophise about how I feel about hangovers, or more to the point about drinking so much that I incurred a two day hangover.

Here's the thing. I've been working pretty hard to make sure I do get a two day hangover. I'm not used to drinking like that anymore. And this is a good thing. And, as the hangover began to pass, rather than saying something along the lines of "ugh, never again", then promptly doing it again and again, I realised that something strange had happened. I think I've changed. Yes, after six months, I think a change of lifestyle has occurred.

Let's get one thing straight. I like a drink. That's not going to change, thank goodness. It's just that I quite like being sober a lot more than I like being drunk. Or at least staying sober for much longer stretches than I used to before. I really quite enjoy being out with friends perfectly sober. The interesting thing is that I've found myself choosing to do it, rather than begrudgingly doing it to maintain a diet.

Take the previous weekend for example. I'd played a game of football, and over a beer in the pub, the conversation turned to the engagement party a few of us were going to the next day. "I'm going to drive", I casually mentioned thinking nothing of it. My friend nearly choked on his drink before exclaiming "What?" as if I'd just announced I was planning to arrive naked. But it really wasn't for any other reason that I didn't much fancy drinking, and I thought it would be a hell of a lot easier to drive.

Of course, my birthday was an entirely different matter. I'd done well over the last 6 months. I fancied a drink to celebrate it. I'd been planning it. And since I was planning on drinking to excess, I'd planned to eat to excess as well. So I did both. And I did both with aplomb. With only a slight loss of dignity on the night before.

It was fantastic to see so many good friends. Some of them hadn't seen me for a little while, so I think my new appearance came as a surprise to some. In fact, a very good friend of mine really didn't recognise me. So, I'd clearly made quite an outward change in the last few months. Oh, and while I'm on the subject, I didn't make my target. I was half a stone short. But I'm well pleased with that. And I'm also pleased that the doctor told me I'm in good shape. I'm still going to carry on and meet the target though. I still feel I need to.

Anyway, I've clearly made some outward changes, and I've talked previously about making some changes on the inside. And I do think I'm doing just as well there. I've come to realise that I could no longer just carry on exactly the same way as I was going. I'm quite sure without the change of lifestyle that I feel that I'm making at the moment, I really could find myself ten years from now wondering where the time has gone and wondering why my health is so bad, and why I'm not so happy.

It's an odd feeling thinking about your life with a hangover. It's an even odder feeling knowing that even though my head was pounding there wasn't a thought in that pounding head that regretted drinking the previous night. Neither was I proud of it. I was just safe in the knowledge that such nights were becoming increasingly rare in my life as I start acting my age at last.

I've still got to make my target from six months ago. I'm still going to do that. But I think it's time for a new focus and a new target. I'm not sure what it is yet, but I know I've still got much to do. There's a career to get going. A house to make the most of. And love to find. All of which should be easier to sort out without a hangover. So it's clear to me that whatever the target is, I've got to not forget the lessons I have learnt over the last six months. Everything that's happened and everything that has helped me to think about my life past and present has helped me grow more in this short time than I have done over the last six years. And I've got to keep building on that.

Whatever the target is, I hope I do well, because I'm going to enjoy the next two day hangover. Hopefully I'll have something to feel good about again.

If you want to see dance music played live you can do far worse than checking out Crazy Penis (or Crazy P as they've now rebranded themselves). House music played live. Superb. If you've never seen them, and you love live music, you'll love this band. But if you want something dirty, something a little more, shall we say down to earth, a more visceral experience, you need Holy Fuck.

They're a four piece from Toronto, and their music is a little difficult to nail down. They do live electronica. But that's not helping. So, imagine two lads each with a table full of electronic equipment in front of them (keyboards, synths, effects, and weirdly a 35mm film sequencer). Add a bass. And some drums. And watch them perform.

Which brings me neatly to my point about the audience. There were lots of Geek boys there. And a few geek girls as well. The geek boy next to me stared at every unit and effect the lads set up. Studied them to see what they were, making a mental note of everything. And I don't think that's such a bad thing to do, because if he came close to some of the sounds that these boys produced I'd be impressed. They play anything from Dub influenced beats to electro, to acid techno. But nothing sticks to a formula. And the live bass and the drums just adds a fantastic edge to the performance that just wouldn't be there without them.

They built up quite a head of steam. I looked around at the crowd. There was lots of dancing and strangely some dry humping to the music. It wasn't pretty to watch. But everyone was having a good time. Geek boy next to me suddenly had an upturn in his evening as not one, but two geek girls decided it would be fun to go over to him and give him a snog right out of the blue. Poor lad didn't seem to know what hit him. He was probably still trying to concentrate on what the effects boxes were.

What did I think of them? Well, this was the second time I'd seen them. I saw them last summer at Glastonbury and to be honest I thought they were much better then. They're the sort of band I think you have to be in exactly the right state of mind to truly appreciate. If you catch my drift. But I'd still say they're a band to go and see if you can. I'm sure that won't be difficult. It's a pretty safe bet they've got a few festivals booked this summer.

http://www.myspace.com/holyfuck

"Well, this is a bit of a shithole"

Quite an opening line from our Malcy. And to be fair, I think I did well to understand him, such is the way that he mumbles in between songs. And that's a shame, because the man has such a fierce wit that when you do hear what he's saying it's invariably incredibly funny.

But anyway, back to the comment. He was being somewhat ironic. To be entirely honest, half the reason I bought the tickets in the first place was because I so wanted to actually see what the venue was like. I wasn't disappointed. My jaw dropped even as I walked through the door. The Union Chapel is a working church, arts centre and homeless project in the heart of Islington. As a music venue it's superb. The pews are arranged in a semi circle around the stage. And there's not a bad seat in the house. The lighting is simply superb as well, making best use of the interior of the building and the windows.

So, as I stared in wonder around the place, Malcolm and his band (I say band, but it was a chap on a double bass, and the fabulous Jenny Reeve on violin and vocals) came on. He started with a rendition of We're All Going to Die, his Christmas single. It was much flatter than the recording, and I thought that this gig might be a little disappointing from the sound of the song. There wasn't much wrong with it, but I'm not sure I wanted to listen to a whole set of his songs sung in such a down beat manner.

I wasn't disappointed however. I had nothing to worry about. The songs are so well written, so well performed that there was no chance that this was going to be a disappointment. Not a chance. I've not got his latest album yet, and he played a lot of material that was unfamiliar to me. But all of them, yes, all of them were electric.

I did catch a little bit of his between songs banter. He said he was quite disappointed that there was no heckling. I think there was a reason for that. I think we were all so enthralled by the quality of the performance and the beauty of the venue that was the last thing on our mind.

http://www.malcolmmiddleton.co.uk/

It's been a weekend of goodbyes. Lots of them. I have to admit that some of them were harder than others, but saying goodbye is always hard in some way. One of them was so unexpected, I certainly wasn't prepared for it. I found myself in Church on Friday night to see a friend's son confirmed. I was really pleased I went along, as he's turned into a very impressive young man. I wish him well as he makes his way in life and as he starts to say goodbye himself to his childish preoccupations and grows to maturity. But as I stood and sat (I didn't kneel, heathen that I am) in the church, and listened to the service, and looked around at all the trappings of christianity, I came to the simple inescapable conclusion that I am a confirmed atheist. I simply don't believe in God or organised religion. Not a bit of it.

I wonder how many people have gazed up at the cross in a church and had the same thought - that this really means absolutely nothing to me. As I stared up at the figure, I said my goodbyes to what remained of my religious beliefs. It was a strange feeling. I tried to put my finger on it, and I realised that the feeling was in fact guilt. A twinge of good old fashioned god fearing guilt. And then it was done. That guilty feeling simply underlined why I reject this and all religions. Why would I feel guilty at thinking this, just because I was in church? There simply is no rational reason, and the guilt comes from years of indoctrination that someone, something, some God, was monitoring what I thought and did at all times. But somehow if I really believed in all this stuff that I saw and heard around me, believed in this one true God, then I'd be fine. But I don't believe. I have no faith to hold on to. Not a shred left. So on Friday night, I said goodbye to God.

That wasn't enough for one evening though. There was more. I headed across town, got lost somewhere in Bexley, before finding the venue for my next goodbye. There were lots of smiles. Plenty of laughing. More than enough drinking. A different kind of goodbye. A smile, a hug, a kiss and a twinge of regret and it was done. Back home to bed, to get up for the next day's goodbyes.

An early start after a restless, sleepless night, kept awake by the sound of my own thoughts. I'm fairly sure it wasn't God keeping me awake. He doesn't exist, remember? The next goodbye was to my erstwhile house mate as he moved into a shared flat with another friend. I spent the day helping them move, and as I did I discussed the goodbyes of the previous day with one of them. As we talked, it seemed to me that as each day goes on, I'm in the process of saying another goodbye. A long goodbye to my youth, if you like.

It's not something I'm concerned about. Quite the contrary, I'm actually quite pleased that I'm becoming more comfortable in myself as I approach a new time in my life. I'm not keen on staying out all night drinking. I'm not likely to go to night clubs. Shhh. Don't tell anyone but I think I quite like acting my age. That's not so bad. But things are definitely changing for me. I'm quite certain that I've said goodbye to a lot of aspects of my life as a younger person.

With that amount of farewells in such a short amount of time, I escaped to the woods to mull over my thoughts. It was muddy. Glastonbury muddy to give you an idea. Despite the clocks going forward, I left quite late, so I had to walk as fast as my legs could carry me. The mud was therefore a challenge. In order to make it to Epping for sunset, I couldn't afford to get bogged down in the mud. As I walked, as I thought about the previous two days, I constantly struggled with the mud. I found the best way to deal with it was to keep up the pace and plough on regardless. Any other way meant that I got stuck, or slid about. In any case, it would hold me up as I pussy footed my way through. And with about 15 miles to walk, that could be an awful lot of pussy footing.

Saying goodbyes are hard, I thought to myself. But as I strode onwards through the mud, it occurred to me that you have two choices in dealing with it. You can dwell on what's gone before. Never let it go. Never move on and become bogged down in the the past. Or, alternatively, you move on, accept that change is good and find something new. The key to dealing with the mud was to move quickly through it. It's no different in life. Choose your path carefully, but move swiftly. Don't hang about and keep moving forward.

I stopped in the quietest bit of the forest and listened to the birds singing and the rain falling on last summer's fallen leaves. The sun barely illuminated the tops of the tallest trees. Time moves relentlessy onwards. Things change. People change. Seasons change. We all change. Its part of what makes life so good.

I was first played this track as a first year in University in 1990, by a flat mate who's name, I seem to remember, was Neil. As with a lot of people who go away for the first time, I arrived at my new residence a bit wet behind the ears. Neil, however, was cool. He had a guitar. He smoked Marlboro Lights. And he liked Galaxie 500.

Fourth of July is from the Album "This is Our Music", which was released in 1990. It's the first track, and I can still vividly remember the effect that the song had on me the first time I heard it. I was mesmerised. I'd never heard music like this before, although to be fair I wasn't exactly listening to cutting edge music at the time. Queen, Led Zeppelin and Deep Purple formed the backbone of my music collection, so I guess it was going to be fairly likely that this music would sound a bit, well exotic, to the boy that I was at the time. I remember commenting to Neil that all the tracks sounded the same (they don't). He tugged on his cigarette, slowly blew out the smoke as was his way, then sagely replied "Exactly". I'm not sure what that exactly means, but hey, he was cool and I wasn't. So I took it as read that this was good.

I didn't know at the time that this would turn into one of my favourite albums of all time. But it has. It's an album I turn to at various times in my life. It's the sort of album that's the perfect match for episodes in my life where I've been melancholy. Not happy, not depressed, not angry, not upset. Just, well, a bit flat. As regular readers may have read, I'm feeling a bit melancholy at the moment and this track (well, the entire album) is taking a bit of a battering right now.

Galaxie 500 were a three piece who split in 1991 after releasing three albums, of which this one is the last. Their music stands out for itself, but their lyrics are also quite interesting. They range from somewhat bizarre, to tragicomic as is the case with Fourth of July. The song opens with this:

I wrote a poem on a dog biscuit
And even your dog refused to look at it

I was about to say something along the lines of well, we've all been there, but quite clearly we haven't, not literally. But I like the allegory. Later on, this line is trumped by my favourite:

I stayed at home on the Fourth of July
And I pulled the shades so I didn't have to see the sky
And I decided to have a bed in
But I forgot to invite anybody


Even if you've never heard the track before, you can guess it's not an uplifting type of song. On the other hand it's not depressing either. The music has almost dream like quality to it. The mood of the music neither lightens or darkens throughout the song, although the lyrics do hint at mood swings that aren't reflected by the flow of the song:

Maybe I should just change my style
But I feel alright when you smile


Looking back to my first thoughts about the song all those years ago, it's not the case that all the songs sound the same. Rather for me, the songs do share a certain enigmatic quality. Read into them as much or as little into them as you like. I'm sure it means something different every time I listen to it. And because of that, there's no way this song could ever sound the same way twice.

For me, as with a lot of people, Easter signals the end of Winter and the beginning of Summer. It's always a good time as you begin to think about your plans for the coming months, and start to pack away the warm winter clothes. Spring cleaning is often on the cards. Holidays are planned. The dark days of winter become a distant memory. The trees begin to bud, and the daffodils look beautiful. It's a time for hopes and dreams.

It's no different for me, as I look forward to the months ahead. I've got plans for the summer. Not only have I packed away some of my clothes, in a fit of enthusiastic spring cleaning I tossed about 4 bags of clothes out for recycling. I'm really pleased with the way I'm looking, and for the first time in a long time, it actually wasn't an unpleasant experience buying clothes the other week. There's still a lot more work to do, and I can't afford to rest on my laurels at the moment, tempting as it is. I'm really pleased I set my target. I'm not going to make it, but I've given it a damn good go. I'm so pleased with the really nice compliments that friends and family have given me. Each kind word has meant such a lot to me, more than I think anyone will possibly know. I've got a revised target in the back of my mind and I'm sure they'll be an update on this just after my birthday.

As well as looking after my health, I've got a new focus on looking after my wealth. Or rather addressing my lack of it. It's going to be a more frugal Summer, as I attempt to maintain the financial discipline of regular saving. There's a reason for this, as it's about time I started doing the things around the house that I'd like to sort out that I don't want to borrow to finance. This year the project is to sort out the garden. The target is to have a BBQ this summer and to be proud of the way my garden looks. At the moment, this looks a long way off, but with the help of a good friend who's given me some great ideas, I think I've got a plan to get things moving forward.

Health and wealth are important, but they are as nothing without happiness and this isn't one quite so easy to plan for. I'm fairly sure that if I stick to my recipe then it's a good start. But it's fair to say that right at this moment I'm neither here nor there. Neither happy nor sad. But both. Neither contented nor frustrated. But both. I'm in the in between place. But it's a good place to be. Let me try to explain.

How is it I can be happy and sad at the same time? I've been asking myself the same question and no matter which way I look at it, that's exactly how I feel. It's difficult to put into words without saying things here that should be kept to myself. But I'm feeling sad at losing a friend who's going away. I'm feeling sad as I think about things that might have been but never were. I'm feeling sad that my time ran out even before it began. And I'm sad because there's not a damn thing I can do about it.

But I'm happy even as I write about the sadness. I've had this feeling for the last few weeks, but I've been unable to work out what it is that made me feel so positive and happy about it all. And strange as it might sound, it's that sadness that's the source of the happiness I now feel. I'm sad because I'm mourning the loss of something I never really had - a mere possibility. But it's that possibility that has awoken something in me. It's lead me to have feelings that have long since been buried.

It's interesting that when I wrote about knowing what I want in a previous blog entry, I still didn't see it then that I was still missing something. I think I understand it now. Even though I've known what I want, I've never really allowed myself to believe that I could have it. Looking back now, it seems obvious but I wasn't aware of it. It seems that the pain of the past really did cast a longer shadow than I thought. But now, as I look back over the last few weeks I can see that the feelings that I've had, however misplaced, have been free of that shadow. And that makes me happy. Happy to look to the future. Happy to be liberated from the past. Happy to be looking forward to being happy.

And I'm happy too for my friend. I hope she finds all she's looking for as well as we continue on our own journeys through life. It seems like we've both got things to look forward to. Spring has sprung. Winter is over. Summer will soon be here. And I can't wait for it to arrive.

Its been one of the strangest weekends I'd had for quite a while. A weekend of drinking and debauchery, a weekend of loving and laughing, a weekend when I'd surprised myself with the sizes of clothes I could buy in the shops, but also a weekend when I'd fallen off the wagon quite spectacularly. And yet it had also been filled with a tinge of sadness that for the life of me I really didn't need right now.

So it was no surprise that, for the first time in the three times that I'd seen her this year, I was quite taken by the other side of her performance - the songs of sadness, anger, lust and of longing. It's quite apparent that this girl lives life as it's meant to be lived. She writes it as she feels it. And does she feel it. I listened to the words a bit more this time around. And although they're never going to win any prizes for poetry, like the music, the honesty and simplicity of them says much more to me about her than any clever words could.

"Drive away my heart" is such an incredibly personal song for her, written seemingly when she was at her lowest ebb, feeling lonely and unloved. She writes about someone she falls in love with at the time who stole her heart. In "Queen of the World" she sings that she's "free this month, lonely this year, lonely for ever". It's a fantastically worked song, quite reminiscent of some of the Smiths best moments with Marr-esque guitar playing. It plays that brilliant trick of being simulataneously hopeless but hopeful. If you don't believe me, then listen for yourself

The real joy of her music is that its almost a documentary of her life. You see her happy. You see her sexy. And you see her sad. I was glad I'd come with my friend who "discovered" Ida before me. She'd not been to see her before. Not for want of trying though. We'd talked about which of the three we should go to together. It wasn't this one, and I certainly didn't think I'd see all three. But it's a funny old world. Some things are just meant to be.

As we began to make our way out, I asked my friend what she thought. After some thought, she glanced back at the stage before delivering her verdict.

"Fuck Girls Aloud", she said, "She's a real role model for women".

Quite.

What happens when you take the angst ridden mincing of Chris Martin, add a dash of Marti Pellow's inane grinning, paint it all on the face of Toby Anstis and project it on a huge screen? For me the end result was pure comedy as I laughed at Tom Smith's theatrics through the first few songs of Editor's set last night. I've got to say in his defence it wasn't his fault that where I was stood, I couldn't see much of the stage, so I was compelled to watch the big screens. But, this being the 4th time I've seen the band, this was the closest look I'd given him. I wish I hadn't.

The first time I saw Editors was in Brixton a year or two ago. I remember I'd heard that they'd built up quite a reputation as a live act. They'd released their first album "The Back Room", but I purposely hadn't bought it before I saw them. And I've got to say I loved the gig. So much I remember commenting at the time that they were "my new favourite band". I bought the album the next day, put it on and loved it. But, as with so many albums that I love the first time I listen to them, I thought that the instant accessibility of the music is traded for longevity. So much so, I rarely listen to it much at all these days. I haven't bought the second album either, which does have plenty of catchy tunes on it, but is pretty much the same sort of thing.

Why have I seen them four times you may well ask? The second time I saw them was at V, and I remember I enjoyed it, but not quite so much. I'm wasn't sure why, so I saw them again at Glastonbury. I don't think the experience was any better, as I have no clear recollection of seeing them at all there. But there might be other (cough) reasons for that. And last night I hadn't planned to go, but there was a spare ticket, so being a sucker for the live music experience I went along.

Half way though the gig, I decided I could no longer take looking at Tom's effete performance on the big screen, so I moved over to the side but a lot nearer the front of the stage. This was much better as I no longer had to look at the big screen. I don't really appreciate big gigs much, so I'm not a fan of watching a big screen at all; the new viewing position was much better, and I think I appreciated the band much more.

That's not to say that I've changed my mind about them though. I don't think I'd pay to see them again if I'm being honest. And it's not because they're a bad band. They do what they do really well. Tom's vocals are absolutely phenomenal, and the screaming guitar playing of Chris Urbanowicz marks the band's now unique sound. The songs are all (apart from the dreaded ballad) well written, all of them catchy. The thing is, they're all of them pop songs. And that's at the heart of the matter for me.

When I first heard the band play, the distinctive sound was moody, dark and brooding. The lyrics that I caught seemed to have something to say. But the problem is that they don't have much to say at all. One of the guys described the resulting sound as "Joy Division Light". I'm sure the phrase wasn't his invention, but you can well understand it. Editors write songs about pain and loss almost voyeuristically. I don't feel connected to their songs, largely because they don't either. They don't feel the pain or the anger. They just write about it. Joy Division didn't simply reflect these emotions, they lived them. And there's a huge gulf between these two bands.

It's sometimes not easy to listen to Joy Division, but it's never a chore to listen to Editors. Take your pick. Which band matters most? Editors I'm sure will continue to entertain with their unique sounding niche of indie/rock/pop/what have you. I'm sure I'll put their album on again once in a while. It will probably cheer me up as I tap my feet to the tunes. But their music won't ever touch my heart the way I'd hoped it would when I first heard them.

Welcome to the first entry of my blog written "on tour". It's actually been written at my parent's home in Norfolk. Even this is a bit strange, as there's a distinct possibility that they will read this entry while I'm still here. Better not be too controversial then I guess.

It's been a good couple of days away from London. I've been able to go on a couple of nice walks (neither of them anywhere near Epping which makes a change). They've been great and it was good to go out with Mum and Dad. I'm glad I've had chance to not be at home for a little while. It's given me some time to reflect on what's been (or not been) happening in my life in the last few weeks.

As every day goes on, I do feel my sense of direction get stronger and I feel that I'm growing in confidence as I start to take control much more of what I want to do and where I want to be. In some cases, this has meant some changes. Some of them are more noticeable than others. Who could have missed the facial fuzz, my comic attempts to deal with my lengthening hair, and the fact that some of my clothes just don't seem to fit quite as well as they once did? Hassan, the proprietor of my local 24 hour shop, bless him, actually didn't recognise me, and when he did felt sure I was ill. Thanks, mate. I'm fine. Better than ever.

Others have been less visible, but nonetheless important. I've been thinking about the person that I am, and if I am happy in my own skin. Now, obviously, I've made some changes on the outside, but what about the inside? Could I make some changes there?

That's a difficult subject. I'm not going to be so stupid and arrogant to say that improvements couldn't be made (which is ironic, as I would say that I'd like to be less arrogant at times). But, I'd like to think that I'm seen as a fairly decent, nice, honest kind of chap. And that's really important to me. I'm a great believer in that great maxim of "do unto others as you would have them do unto you". As a moral compass I think it's a great guide, and I try and follow it as much as I can.

What bothers me about living this way is that it's got an obvious flaw. Not everyone sticks to it. Life is a balancing act between the conflicting needs of self interests and supporting the interests of others. If you strongly favour the former, you find that you might be staggeringly successful, but you find you don't have any friends, and your quality of life is diminished. If it's the latter you favour, you find yourself constantly helping other people to achieve their goals, but neglect your own in preference to theirs, and your quality of life is also diminished. Finding the right balance between the two, and knowing when to favour one side over the other is the key to finding happiness from within. I think. I also think it's very hard to achieve.

I've been wondering over the past few days if I favour one side too much over the other. It's a difficult one. I think I probably do. And a lot of the time it doesn't do me any favours. Life is a competition, especially in matters of the heart. Would I be better off looking after my own self interest at the expense of others? Should I say things that other people want to hear just so I can get what I want? Should I pretend to be a person that I'm not? I know an awful lot of people do. And more often than not, they on the face of it have greater success than I.

But what would I truly achieve if I made an effort to change in this way? In effect, to become more selfish. What sort of person would I become? Would it be a good strategy for me? I honestly don't think so. To do this, I would have to become, even in a small way, more cynical, more calculating and a less honest person than I am now. It's not something I'm prepared to do.

How can I truly expect to find someone who's decent and honest who respects me if I can't offer them the same in the first place? If that makes me too nice, then so be it. I don't think that I'm ever going to change that - nor would I want to. I know it means that I'm going to find it more difficult to find the right person. But I'm still sure that it's the right thing to do.

There are up sides to all of this, however. I've got 35 years of practice of being me and knowing what I'm looking for. It's not often that I meet someone who I know I really like, but I'm damn sure about it when I do. I'm even mature enough to express it these days when given the opportunity. And you won't catch me messing about when I find that person either. I might not always be successful, but I know I'm not going to compromise now. Not a chance. That would be a change too far.

As the champagne trickled down my face and into my mouth, I casually wondered if I'd failed in my promise to lay of the drink for Lent. I quickly forgot that thought as I bounded back skywards, my fist punching the air with a big grin on my face. I wasn't the only one. The place was going crazy. It seems that this is just a typical night with Imperial Leisure.

I've seen them before some months ago. It was at Madame Jo Jo's. I can't lie about the night. I was drunk. Pissed. Hammered. I remember the hangover almost as much as the night itself. I think we'd gone to see a band called Union of Knives. But it was Imperial Leisure who were on after that I remembered most. I'd never heard of them before. But I certainly never forgot them. Loads of guys packed on to a tiny stage going mental. Driving the crowd mental. And we all danced and sang and drank and fell about laughing it was so good.

But I had a sneaky suspicion that the lagers had chemically enhanced the experience somewhat. Surely the weren't that good? The two mates who were with me that night certainly seem to remember they were good. But you just never know. So this was going to be a test to see how good they really are. As usual, 2 tickets were bought, but my pal couldn't make it. I couldn't persuade anybody to go with me, so I was going on my own. And I really didn't fancy it. I was tired and I had to hang around in work for quite a while. I very nearly went home.

So I arrived tired, irritable and unenthusiastic. And I was going to stay sober. Nice. I bought a drink, then found a nice spot right in front of the stage while one of the supports, The Bookhouse Boys, finished their set. They were pretty good I thought. Nice shoes as well. I had a little sway to them. I wouldn't call it a dance though. I was far too grumpy for that.

Imperial Leisure came on, and because this time I wasn't sozzled, I counted them. My memory of how many there were on stage on that drunken night was a little hazy. My calculation was anywhere between 25 and 90. There are in fact 10 of them. They're all friends from North London. There's a brass section, a DJ, guitar, bass, keyboards, bass, 2 MC's and a singer. They play a mix of hip hop, ska, and rock. But that doesn't quite capture the sheer infectiousness of the band. The energy. Boundless energy.

I moved a bit more for their first song. My arms started to swing during the second. My feet were moving by the third. I leapt in the air for the fourth. I was having a full on party by the end. In between, I'd been grabbed by the lapels by the singer, ducked out of the way of a enthusiastic trombone player and been showered with champagne. And the quality of the songs all through was fantastic. All of them without exception are sing along classics. "Landlords Daughter", "The beast" "Man on the Street", and their new single "In a letter" all stand testament to their sense of fun. And just to cap it all some superb lyrics if you can catch them.

Quite why I struggle to find people to go with me leaves me at a loss. Just listen to their recorded material. Then imagine seeing them do it live about 2 inches from your face. And think how much fun it would be. It's ten times more fun than that. I certainly am not going to worry about going to see them on my own again. I'll tell people how good they are. I'll tell them what they're missing. It's the best I can do. But if I can't make the case for them, I'll simply go see them again and let them state their own case on stage. Loud and clear. Right where they belong.

I saw a girl at the bus stop who'd been there. I'd seen her jumping up and down. I'd seen her laughing, shouting, singing. She was still smiling waiting for her bus. That says it all really.

http://www.myspace.com/imperialleisure

Finally the days are beginning to lengthen and after my misadventures with Waltham Forest Borough Council, I decided that this week's walk was going to not involve anything to do with London and it was therefore time to start to venture out further afield. Being the adventurous type, I unfurled the map across the campaign table at roblog HQ, and aimed for the furthest place I could get to. After I had overslept. Again.

After a quick calculation, I determined that I could probably walk for 5 hours and as the sun set at 17.30 and it was then 11.30, the furthest I could really get to was Essex. Or Kent. I thought about that for a while then decided that although I was going to be charged 2 quid to go to Kent across the Dartford crossing, I actually fancied feeling the Kentish mud beneath my feet. it had been a while.

So, after a quick flick throught the book of Kent Walks (I don't have one for Essex, making more of a case for Kent) I decided upon a walk around Penshurst. It looked quite a nice one, as not only did it look like it was going to a good route, but also I could revisit places that I hadn't been to for a while, such as Hever, Chiddingstone and of course Penshurst itself. It was a 12 mile walk, so a little shorter than my usual, but it was good to get out of London and walk somewhere new. Well... newish.

I got there in about the hour I'd figured it would take me, and I parked up in the village centre. It's amazing how much a whopping great parking fine makes you check and double check, so I made sure there was no possibilty I was going to get my car towed this week. I must have looked like a right old London tosser checking for parking restrictions in a village with 9 or 10 (rather lovely) houses. Once I'd convinced myself that all was well, I then set off on the stroll around some beautiful Kent countryside.

It's a nice route, taking in 2 or 3 crossings of the River Eden. The area is rich with historical connections, as Hever Castle is the seat of the Bullen family and it is there, so the story goes, that Henry VIII fell in love with Anne Bullen, or Boleyn, which of course lead to the establishment of the Church of England and also to Anne's untimely death on the scaffold. Chiddingstone, is also delightful, with it's beautiful old houses and it's stunning church. The scenery was superb and I was so happy to see some snowdrops on the way.

As I walked, I couldn't help but notice a feeling that I find difficult to put into words. The nearest I can put it is that I had an incredible sense of feeling "at home". I'm not sure where it came from, but I'm guessing that growing up in Kent has left me all these years later with the feeling that it's still home. Funny enough, I've lived in London for 13 years now, which is the longest I've lived anywhere. But I still don't think I've put roots down here. I'm not sure I will. But I suppose I've not really given it time anyway. Up until I bought my house, I'd moved on average about once a year, managing to live in Ealing, Shepherds Bush, Ealing again, Marylebone, Belsize Park, Camden, Golders Green, Winchmore Hill and finally here in East Ham. It's not bad here, and I do grow more fond of it day by day, but I can't see myself staying here. Although given my capacity for laziness you never know. But as I've said in a
previous post, London is a varied city. So, although there are common aspects about living here that are shared, each place really is different.

So it seems that I've got a long way to go to match my nearly 20 years I spent in Margate and Ramsgate in my home county of Kent. And naturally, throughout the years, I came to see a fair bit of the places in and around the county. There are many beautiful places in Kent spread right across the county. Many of them have real significance for me as I grew up to become the man I am today. I've got so many pleasurable memories of happy family days out, or Sunday afternoon walks with my dad and family holidays at my grandparents.

I'm coming to realise that deep down that such things are important to me. I'll readily admit I'm a sentimental person, but I don't think that's such a bad thing. It's nice to know your roots and more importantly, it's nice to be able to return to them once in a while. It doesn't mean that I want to live in the past. That would be foolish of course. In fact, I think the opposite is true as I think you are the sum of your experiences in life. Without new experiences, one cannot grow. But I think, for me at least, it's important to know where you are from, and who you are, and learn from past experiences.

So as I walked through Kent countryside, I decided I was well overdue to go for a walk with the old man. Arrangements will be made. I'm sure it won't be in Kent, but it's the Kent countryside that reminded me to do so. I'm off to Stanfords to get some ideas.

I don't often buy albums as soon as they're released, much less pre order them, but I did with this one. It's been 3 years since his last release "Body of Song", and it's not that I'm bored of any of his records, but its a case of I was sure that this one wasn't going to disappoint and it doesn't.

Bob Mould isn't exactly a household name, but in his 25 years of making music, he's had a tremendous influence on the music world. He came to prominence with the 80's Punk band Husker Du, who's influences still resonate in music past and present. He quit the band in 1987, and set off on his solo career, with two very raw albums Workbook and Black Sheets of Rain. He then formed a band, Sugar, with which he had a great deal of success most notably with the album "Copper Blue", before the band split and he returned to making solo music.

Since the Sugar years, Mould has diversified his life, running a club night in Washington DC (where he lives now) called Blowoff. He's even written wrestling scripts. But it's his music that he returns to over and over again. Most often loud and visceral, always thoughtful, melodic and most importantly often experimental. He has not been content to stick with the same sound, and this culminated in his album Modulate released in 2002, where he experimented (i think fairly unsuccessfully as it happens) with dance beats.

At 47, this is his 7th solo album, and I think it's one of his best. It's an album borne of his life in DC over the last 5 years, the ups and downs, and reflecting on growing older. This doesn't make it any less a Bob Mould album than any other, as it still has the essential ingredients that has made his work so good over the years; great song writing, thoughtful lyrics, loud guitars and his very unique voice.

As always, he writes about loves and losses in his life, and on this album, "Again and Again" tells the story of another "ugly fall from grace" in his words. It tells a story much like his song "Moving Trucks" on his album "The Last Dog and Pony Show", and as a song for me it's as good if not better than this favourite of mine.

The single off the album "The Silence Between Us" is quite the opposite, even though the title seems to promise a similar story. It's a song of love and of time spent together. A beautiful song and a fantastically catchy tune.

The silence between us is the time when
I can hear the thoughts on your mind

But it's also a reflection of his place in the world, and his growing feeling of finding himself and being comfortable with where and who he is. In "Old Highs, New Lows", he reflects on this new calmness in accepting all that life throws at him good and bad. And then just for good measure in "Return to Dust", he gives us this little gem as if to underline the point.

Growing old, it's hard to be the angry young man.
Turn away. Turn and walk away.

This is an album of great depth and breadth, a real return to form. Having been a fan of his work for years myself, I'm glad to find he's finding his peace but not losing his edge. I hope there's a lot more to come in the next 25 years.

RING RING
Come on. Answer the phone you bastards
RING RING
Bastards
RING RING
Bloody office should still be open
RING RING
CAN ANYONE GET ME AN OPERATOR PLEASE?

Thus began the most annoying, most expensive, most frustrating trip to a gig I can think of. It had started so well. I'd had a nice relaxing morning, perhaps a little too relaxed, as I left a little too late for my walk. I usually walk from my house and get public transport back, but London transport seems to do it's best to put you in to a car at the weekend, as for the second time running the central line was down from Leytonstone to Stratford. So for the second week in a row I parked up in Leytonstone and walked from there.

It was a beautiful day again in the forest. But I was running late, so I pretty much had to leg it through, all the time calculating how I was going to get to Wimbledon for the gig. The plan was to get there by about 8, and I'd planned to drive and pick up a pal on the way. I was probably getting to Epping station by 4.30, getting to Leytonstone at 5.00, home by 5.30, eat and shower and out by 6.30.

Everything was going to plan I arrived at Leytonstone station bang on time. Only my car was missing. It didn't take me long to realise what had happened. I'd inadvertently parked it in a disabled bay. I didn't mean to. I had no idea I had until I got back. It didn't matter. The car had been towed.

I got hold of the number and dialled it and waited. And waited and waited. Eventually some nice chap answered. He was talking to someone in his office at the same time as me. He eventually found the time to confirm my car had been told then told me it would cost 250 quid to get it back. From Edmonton. Nice. Very nice. Did I mention that they're bastards?

Anyhow. I got a taxi back then just had time for a shower and then with nothing to eat headed for the tube again to get to Wimbledon. I did in fact get there for eight, so it wasn't a total disaster. We had to wait half hour for the band to come on, so retreated to the bar, which was strictly patrolled by bouncers. No drinks allowed outside into the youth club, I mean, venue.

Yes, it was one of those "young" gigs. There were a few brave souls there over the age of 25, but I think maybe 3 or 4 over 30. The rest, well shall we say were probably escaping their homework for the evening. Not that there's anything wrong with that, because us oldies weren't only the odd ones out on the floor, but also on the stage, as this band is young. They age between 17 and 20 and quite honestly they look it, just to make me feel middle aged. They're from Gold Coast in Queensland, and have been together as a band a couple of years. They're a five piece consisting of Amandah on vocals and guitar, a keyboardist, violin, bass and drums.

The first thing you notice about the band is Amandah's amazing voice. Powerful, strong, and a good range. As with a lot of female vocalists, the maturity of her voice belies her age. And she also looks the part. She reminded me of Beth Ditto as the band launched into their first song "Get what you want", which is a stunning song to announce the bands arrival. A real showcase.

They've been doing rather well in their native Australia, having been nominated for a couple of Arias, and played the Big Day Out festivals. So it must have been a bit odd for them to find themselves in this small venue in Wimbledon in the middle of Winter having just left the summer sun at home. The crowd was small and actually quite conservative. I'm not sure Watershed's the greatest of places to see a band though. XFM obviously think so, as it was them that hosted it, but I was seriously unimpressed with the sound. It was far too compressed, and it meant that the band really had to struggle to get over their infectious energy. In particular, the rather delightful violin playing by Taylor was often drowned out by the rest of the band.

The sound problems unfortunately meant that so much of the character had been lost when they played their single "Leave it Alone". Not a problem as the perfomance of "Just a song about Ping Pong" made up for it. It's a song so corny and I don't mean that in a bad way. But not many bands could make it that much fun. Well done to them. They finished with "Zero Zero", which I'd not heard, but it was a cracking little finale.

I've got a feeling we'll here a lot more from this band of energetic Australian yoofs. They're booked for Leeds and Reading festivals. And I think its in the summer sun (or rain as the case may be) that they'll make it. Something wasn't quite right tonight though. Maybe they missed the outdoors. Maybe they missed the sun. Or maybe they missed home. I don't know, but the gig never really came to life as much as I'd hoped.

I wish them all the best though. I hope to catch them this summer with a beer in my hand catching some rays. Just how they're meant to be heard.

Now back to reality. Anyone seen my chequebook?

I don't think I enjoyed the gig on Thursday. But my review was slightly misleading. I had in fact seen Justice before. They were at Field Day last summer. Now, that might have been the case and I can confirm I was there. But I don't remember seeing them at all. Largely because:

a) The organisation there was so poor that they hadn't laid on enough bars. Hence I ordered 8 beers when I got served (like everyone else). I didn't intend to drink most of them, but I think I did. That's not my fault is it? I couldn't give them away and they bloody well weren't going to drink themselves.
b) The sound was so poor that you really couldn't hear much yards from the stage. This was of course exacerbated by the fact I was slightly squiffy and probably on the floor at the time, due to (a). I also cannot remember if I actually was on the floor, also due to (a)
c) Justice are very dull, so I can't be blamed for forgetting I had seen them. I bet they played that song over and over again though.

But one thing I am annoyed about is that I didn't see Late of the Pier who were supporting. Knowing me, someone will probably tell me I've seen them before as well. Oh well, at least if I keep blogging who I've seen I'm not going to forget again.

Ah. Valentine's day. A day to look forward to. Love is in the air. And according to my free lifestyle magazine "The Newham Mag" that the council sends me in return for my council tax, a day to romance your loved one. In Newham. Seriously. They had an article on it, which was unsurprisingly small. Much as I'd have loved to take up their top tips, I had a few problems:

a) Who in their right mind would want to romance their loved one in Newham?
b) Why wait till Valentine's day to romance your loved one? and;
c) I, er, don't have a loved one to romance in the first place.

Obviously Newham was out of the question. I had plans anyway. I was going to see a free gig at the 100 Club, where Bombay Bicycle Club were playing. Now, lack of a loved one not withstanding, I was looking a bit short of mates to go there with, so I was facing up to the possibility of being out on my own on one of the crappest nights to do so on. I might be pretty cynical about the Valentine's malarkey, but having said that, the west end is full of snogging couples on the night, and at the very least it can put you off your diet coke and at the worst send you off on the kind of voyage into introspection that I've been carefully avoiding for the last few months (well, apart from in my blog, but that's a different story).

It was therefore perfect timing when I got a call from a friend in the afternoon to ask me what I was up to that evening. So, obviously there was no need to ask him whether he'd got back together with that bird he'd been chasing. I optimistically asked him if he fancied going to the 100 club, but it turned out he had tickets to Justice, going along with another couple of losers without a date other mates. Sure. What the hell. Never heard of them though. He told me they sounded like Daft Punk. Can't be that bad then I suppose if they're similar to them.

It turns out the only similarity with Daft Punk is that they're also French. But I don't think I remember Daft Punk being as predictable and, frankly uninteresting as Justice were. We arrived just in time to see the whole set. Which at the time seemed like a good thing. Bizarrely we were told that we could only put bags in the cloakroom on accounts that we'd "arrived late". "Sure thing, mate", I replied, " It's got nothing at all to do with the fact you've not got enough capacity to handle people coming through the doors all wearing coats in mid winter". This didn't appear to go down too well, so we disappeared into the venue.

It was indeed full when we got in, and the band were just coming on as we'd arrived. I say band, but they're actually 2 guys. And they just bob up and down like "live" electronic acts do. Not especially interesting. Thats why Orbital and the Chemicals put on lights for you to look at. These guys managed to put an illuminated Cross on the front of the stage, and after that the lighting was at best described as minimal. One of my mates said it was so bad it was a hair's breadth away from those traffic light mobile disco lights. And he was pretty spot on.

Justice, (well actually Justice vs Simian) are best known for "We are your friends", which to be fair is a stonking tune. A fantastic electro masterpiece loved by many. And boy did they milk it. Over and over again. We heard that damn line throughout, and the kids lapped it up every time. It's a pity that the quality of the music in that track wasn't really reflected thoroughout. The sound they play (if they do actually play - what the hell do they do behind the desk?) I'd describe as big beat. Very loud. Very unsubtle. And very dull after a while.

Initially it was all pretty good, but it didn't really progress. Just the same sounds, the same beats and the same samples played in a different order. And that bloody "We are your friends" chucked in for good measure to remind us all who they were. I think it's fair to say that they played to their audience who would have been pleased if they'd have just put their album on and sat around on deckchairs for an hour. They went wild over an electric guitar sample for goodness sake. It wasn't even a good one. And then they played "We are your friends" over it. Again.

I'm glad it ended when it did. We all were to be honest. We couldn't help it though. That tune is so catchy we ended up singing it as we left. We made a few slight adjustments to it though.

"We've... got.... one song.
It.... goes... on and on."

Repeat. For ever. You get the picture.

It had been less than a week since I'd seen Ida at the 229. She'd been so good then I'd got tickets for this gig the same night, which was fortunate as, unlike the 229 gig, this one looked like a sellout.

The Borderline is a fantastic venue for someone like Ida. It's small, and gloriously sweaty and cramped. It creates a fantastic atmosphere and it was a treat to be there. I'd gone along with a friend this time, and it was a real surprise that we bumped into another one of our mates there who had gone by himself. So the three of us went down the stairs to wait for the band to come on.

I looked around, and I remembered a few faces from the previous Thursday. I wondered if they recognised me (and I hope they noticed that I actually had some friends!). We managed to find a spot right in front of the stage, and thankfully without the confounded pillar in the way, although we had to split up as space really was limited. it wasn't a worry, as the band soon came on.

She was wearing the same hat, but this time she wore a rather funky green dress. And she looked good enough to eat. I think I'm already developing a teenage crush on the woman. It doesn't help that every song seemingly is about sex, as she delightedly informed us. I'm not sure the set was the same as the last time, but although it wasn't quite as loud, the sound was much better.

"Did you see us on Jools Holland?", Ida enquired. She giggled before answering her own question "We looked cool". And if they gave as good a performance as they did tonight, I'm sure they did. She then poured a bottle of water over her face, and swung round towards the audience, showering the ones closest to her with the water and her sweat. She looked the part as she launched into "I like you better when you naked" which once again was heaps of fun. But it was "Oh My God" once again that was the highlight. Unbelievably, it was better, more exciting, more passionate and so bloody good, I couldn't believe my own ears.

Thankfully, tonight the crowd managed to get her to come back for an encore. She sang "We're all going to hell", which is a beautiful number, and we all were encouraged to sing along as the music faded away. We all went to Heaven for a moment. Perfect.

Just as well I'm still in a good mood from the weekend, as tonight's result against Burnley would have been hard to take. Conceding four goals after taking a two goal lead was a bit of a changed performance from the game on Saturday against Southampton.

It certainly was an entertaining game. I thought both sides played attractive football. We certainly seemed to lose all sense of impetus when Rowly went off. I don't know why. And Burnley's first goal was unlucky for us I think. But what worried me was after their second, we really looked deflated. I said at the time that we looked like a team that was going to lose. The body language in the players certainly showed that (apart from Agyemang and Mahon maybe). I thought that Vine in particular was not at the races, especially compared with his performance on Saturday.

So it was unsurprising that we went behind. But what depressed me most was that we looked knackered 75 minutes into the game. A beaten side before we'd actually be beaten. It was back to the bad habits of the pitiful second half performances that have cost us so many points earlier in the season. Burnley worked hard to get back into the game I thought and they also worked hard after they drew level. They simply wanted it much more than us.

I notice that De Canio thinks complacency may have set in during the game.It certainly did amongst some of our fans. I even had a chuckle at the people cheering each pass after 20 minutes and singing "You might as well all go home". What we saw tonight was a Burnley team that was more committed, more focussed and worryingly so it seems fitter than ours. And I also thought that Cole and Akinbaye were also a fantastic pairing up front. I thought the their second goal was really well worked.

But - and a big but here - I don't think I can really criticise individual performances. I thought that defensively we looked OK for long periods in the game. The only two criticisms are that the last two goals were indeed poorly defended, but I do think that was down to the malaise that had swept the team earlier. Mahon was putting himself about as did Leigertwood, but I'm not sure they work as a pair. Akos and Vine were perhaps not at their best, but for me Pat worked his socks off for the entire 90 minutes.

It's probably a game to put behind us, but not forgotten, as I think there are a huge amount of lessons to be learnt not only by the players and the management but by us as fans. We're not a world beating team yet. Not for a while at least. Just be patient.