The Fight Club
guy signing books after a public reading from his latest one, Haunted
. Sadly, he didn't read Guts
(widely regarded as The Most Disgusting Short Story In The World
), but the one he read instead totally justified his decision to give every audience member an air freshener that smelled like barbecued meat.
Yes, I know there's a severed hand on the table next to him.
It bloody is, honestly. (And that's former Small Face Ian McLagen on keyboards in the second picture.) The usual mixture of politics, jokes and yellable tunes. You could complain about how little new material Bragg has in this set, but those objections melt away in the final encore of the night - a lightning run through all seven tracks from his 23-year-old debut record, still sounding as good as ever (even though he admits the high end of his vocal register is shot to shit nowadays).
Excellently frenetic jazz outfit from Tokyo. I stood too close to the front of the stage throughout the show, and ended up with my hair full of trumpeter flob.
Yes, violence against women is undeniably a bad thing. But does this strike anyone else as just a tad overfuckingsensitive?
...to find the most offensive team name you could use at an Amnesty International pub quiz without being thrown out.
Work it out from there.
Battersea Arts Centre's Sausage Night: a benefit show for the venue, featuring a star-studded array of stand-up comics along with free sausages. Damn good fun, with the added bonus of me being one of the winners of their raffle, picking up this t-shirt signed by everyone who performed that night.
Go to http://www.youngbloodbrassband.com
and listen to March
on the site's audio player. Now try to imagine what it's like being in a small room with them.
I'm an old man now, and so I tend to avoid the moshpit these days when I'm going to gigs. At Gogol Bordello's show, the moshpit extended from the front of the stage to the mixing desk. Still, even when watched from behind that mixing desk, this was one hell of a show - I haven't seen this sort of frenzy since the heyday of the Pogues.