6.23.2007
THE DISCIPLINES PLAYING IN LONDON THIS WEEK: 27th 02 ARENA WITH SNOW PATROL; 28TH MONTO WATER RATS THEATREI've been at home this week, mostly it's been about conceptualizing and organizing things for the Disciplines, especially our upcoming week in London. I have made time to see some local flavors, i.e. Legoparty at Le Baron, and Housse de Racket at La Fleche D'or; tonight I just got back from seeing the Sea & Cake at Point Ephemere. It's always a bad idea for me to write on a saturday night after a show, as I'm pretty tired and not inclined to go into the level of detail that I normally insist on. Housse de Racket as you might quickly learn are a tennis-themed band playing pop music that has all the wiggly enthusiasm of a box of puppies. They won me over when I saw they had converted the brand name on their keyboard to "Roland *Garros*". On friday I went to the summer solstice party at Aden's créche (day care). As the weather was iffy, festivities were held indoors this year, so 25 kids plus parents and quite a few siblings made for a packed house. All the kids win prizes, and despite the fact that there were far more prizes than kids, Aden managed to tweak and go into a kind of incredible greed mode, at one point sort of laying on her acquisitions and screaming to scare off any potential thieves. It's believeable when you know that in normal circumstances at the créche, anything interesting in your hands has to be defended vigorously from the other kids' curiosity/acquisitive mimesis at all times. Like any time spent with a three year old, you hit the high highs and the low lows, tears, rage, laughter, et al, in rapidly succeeding waves for several cycles in a short period. This week I enjoyed watching Rush's "R30" DVDs...thanks Darius! I also watched Sonic Youth's "Corporate Ghost" video collection...that video for Dirty Boots is so cheesy...I thought so at the time, and watching it now...gawd. Very funny bit in "Cinderella's Big Score" with Bill Bartell leading a young boy into...well, it never says exactly but he takes him by the hand and then the view jumps to a pawn shop sign flashing "MONEY". I also watched the Jimi Hendrix "Live at Woodstock" DVD which is pretty amazing, it's a great print and the sound is really good...there is a thing called "Woodstock Jam" that starts out with some truly bizarre solo guitar arpeggios. I also watched a fan made DVD of the Posies 2005 show in Utrecht...it's really rocking and the sound is really good. We hold it together until a cast of unique and beautiful individuals start dancing on stage...they kind of take over, and we kinda start to fall apart...in a lovely, organic blaze of glory. I watched Walter Salles' film " Behind the Sun" which is excellent, the cinematography of Walter Carvalho is dreamy and incredible; one scene which is a running chase thru dead trees is really monumental. I hope to see you all in London next week at one of the Disciplines' shows. More things are in the works to announce soon. I also just added a show with Liquid Architecture here in Paris for next weekend, unfortunately it's at a very exclusive party for a fashion magazine. Also, I'd like to recommend anyone in Paris (who's read this far) to see my friends WaFlash play in Paris on June 30 at La Java in the 10eme. Love KS Paris
6.17.2007
CARAMEL NIGHTS The Disciplines have moved up to the A list on NRK’s P3 radio in Norway---truly heavy rotation! Also, we will be supporting Snow Patrol for a show at the 02 Arena in London; this is part of multi-night stand: our show, on the 27th of this month, was only made available to residents of Greenwich (where the 02 is located), employees of the 02, and Snow Patrol fan club members. Think that’s going to be a small show? Think again—we’ll play to 15,000 people. The following night, we will support a band called Brinkman, at the Monto Water Rats Theatre in London. Wimbledon is on at the same time...anyone want to take me?? I wrote a long rant about my feelings seeing Tony Blair making friends with Col. Muammar Gaddafi, celebrating Libya’s participation (on the Western side, anyway) in the war on terror. I cut it down to a size in proportion to my journalistic abilities and credibility. So, the same day as the meeting in the tent between the two leaders, BP signed a deal worth half a billion pounds to extract oil from Libya. I am certainly in favor of Libya making good on efforts to turn a softer side to the West. But, really, Tony Blair trying to convince the world it’s about ABO (anything but oil)…certainly that’s a stretch? I mean, really now… BARCELONA, 6/10 Well, I managed to watch the Roland Garros finals in short snatches, some in my hotel, some in the bar by the classroom. I spent the afternoon with about 20 students, talking about music production (I primarily spoke about music * pre production *, pointing out how much work can be down with just the equipment of your ears, long before you start mic-ing things up. I spoke (this was all with the aid of a translator) about my own experiences with different producers, and my own experiences recording artists over the years. I really enjoyed the experience, and I hope I gave out some useful information. The show that night as it turns out was in a club quite far from Barcelona, in the suburbs, and there were no metros running late enough to get people home after my show, plus the show wasn’t even advertised in BCN, just in this little suburban town…but, it was mainly for a TV broadcast so we didn’t need a * huge * audience…but, still, we had 50 or so diehard fans (I had 250 at my last proper show in BCN, so it was hard not to be a little disappointed. Easy come, easy go). I played with the legendary Paco Loco, I played guitar and harmonica while he made up a song on the piano (he says he improvises all his lyrics, and frankly, I think it’s possible). I did my set—the TV can’t use the stuff I do off the mic but that’s a huge part of my show, so the broadcast will show one of my new songs, and all the piano songs (I played a new song I’ve never played before in the piano set!). I’m not sure when it will air… I spent the morning at the offices of Houston Party records, I delivered the master for a song of mine that will appear on the label’s 10th anniversary compilation early next year, in fact the track, a demo I recorded for my next album, will be like a sneak preview of the album. The track is exclusive and will appear nowhere else. I flew home, had a few minutes’ rest before heading to Le Zenith to see the White Stripes. I think the venue gets its name from the fact it resembles the innards of a big 1970s color TV (like the first TV that we owned that had a remote control, on which I watched countless episodes of “M*A*S*H” and “Space: 1999” and saw ads for news albums by Boston and Ted Nugent being advertised). The White Stripes were like an older version of themselves, dressed plainly in red, like they did back in 2001, playing on a red stage with red instruments and red amplifiers, and red monitors. Hey, I got news for ya—Sammy Hagar has been doing this shtick for years! The band sounded great, they really are like Led Zeppelin without the drum solos. On Tuesday I headed to London again, to mix the Duloks tracks I worked on earlier this year. I made quick mixes at that time, and these were quick too—I had 9 hours to mix the three songs from scratch. They’re simple enough, but you’d be amazed how quickly nine hours goes by. On Thursday I had a few meetings in London, and on Friday I came home. I spent the weekend with my family in Issoudun, attending the wedding of my friends Remi and Isabelle, which was an elaborate affair, with a civil wedding (we missed that bit), a church wedding (we were there, but it was a tiny church so most folks had to hear a play by play on the P.A. set up outside!) an aperitif outside (champagne and ice cream, among other delights) and a long reception/dinner (Remi’s band Cheap Star played, I played a couple of songs with Remi’s brother too; embarrassing photos and home movies of the couple were shown, and copious amounts of Chateauneuf-de-Pape were imbibed). Issoudun is a very small town in the middle of France. Dom actually went to school here for awhile. On Sunday there are no cabs, virtually no restaurants. Dom & I found ourselves more or less stranded as our hotel was quite far from the station. Aden needs to eat at regular intervals, and it was getting to be lunchtime. The hotel restaurant was fully booked—all the old timers in the region gather on Sundays for a long lunch. It was suggested that we walk across the road to see if the hotel across the roundabout was still serving. In France, it is unthinkable that a hotel you have stayed in would place a call for you. So, Dom trudged across, found they were serving, and called me. I stored the bags at our hotel (including 4 balloons Aden was hoarding) gathered Aden and her things, and trudged across to the Hotel Marmotte, where for 32 Euros we ate vegetables from a can, overcooked meat of a suspect origin, and patently awful café. Hey, that’s the only game in town. To add to the ambiance, the tables were populated solely with couples over 60 (Aden said aloud—“one papy, two papy, three papy”—papy being the diminutive French word for grandpa). The mood they created—by not speaking a single word, not smiling once, just looking concerned when Aden made any noise –don’t these people have grandkids? The restaurant were nice enough to arrange a ride to the station for us (at first we were told, that since no cabs run on Sundays, the only way to the station, some 6 km away, was on foot. With a child and luggage. Yeh right. But they found a member of the staff willing to give us a lift (we paid him €10). We had planned to go the lunch for the wedding, but that was in a village 20km away, no one’s cell phones were working there, and there were, again, no cabs. So we found that a train was leaving at 3.15, and lunched with appropriate speed (no need to say there was no lingering over that lunch necessary). I trudged back to the first hotel, now accompanied by the steady and unspectacular rain that small towns excel in, and retrieved our stuff. The area is not meant for pedestrians, so to get out of the hotel on foot you more or less have to scale an embankment that serves as noise protection for the hotel guests from passing traffic. I came back, and we stuffed our belongings in a little SEAT and were driven to the station. We managed to get a place on an earlier train—just a place, tho'…no seats. And the train was packed. Of course, in the train stations in small towns have no escalators or elevators—if you are in a wheelchair, or have a stroller, or more than the most minimal luggage—you have to go down and up stairs to get to the platform. Ah, travel. We managed to find empty seats here and there during the journey as people got on and off. Finally we got back to Paris, and Dom pushed people around in the taxi queue to allow the people with little kids to have priority. It wasn’t easy. She wasn’t taking it sitting down however; she really got in the face of a few rude Parisians, which is saying something. Hey, it’s not all complaints from me. It’s la fete des peres, a.k.a. Father’s Day, and Aden made me a little crafted present with wood, glass, glue and blue paint. And she gave me some balloons…and lots of calins. I called my dad and stepdad, and I think it’s a rainy and grim enough night that it qualifies as a movie night… Love KS Paris
6.10.2007
Check out the new pictures in the photos section, tons of shots from the recent Disciplines shows and more. LONDON, 6/4 We were rested and ready for this night’s show. We’d had a drink with my friend Rangi the night before, and since England shuts down at about 8pm on a Sunday we were not into any mischief. Monday’s big projects were to buy a travel iron, which I managed to do quite brilliantly, and mail a CD to Calexico’s management (for something KS related). Finally at about 4 we grabbed a taxi and headed to Brick Lane. We spotted Josh Weller, the organizer of the night, walking into a club and told the cab to halt. Naturally, we were on time and the club was locked up tight. It eventually opened up and then there was a short wait for the various bands to bring their gear and at last we could soundcheck. 93 Feet East is a slightly grittier club than the Borderline, but that’s to its credit, I think. It’s one of your slippery metallic stages, kind of concrete box of a room—you know, rock club. 93FE wins the award for the most thoroughly graffiti’d dressing room ever. I had to really search hard to leave some razzing for the Duloks who just played there right after us. We had a band dinner at Bengal, which everyone told us was the best of the 100s of Bangladeshi restaurants that line Brick Lane. It was one of the only ones that * didn’t * have touts outside hassling potential customers (god, did we feel like easily marked tourists) so that was a good sign. Yep, it was killer. We spent a little time in a hipster coffee house, a very Seattle-style place whose name escapes me. I read a newspaper backstage. The other bands started to play. I sort of couldn’t pay attention, just trying to stay focused. The MC for the evening was a very friendly Welsh dude who basically kept telling the crowd they were rubbish before every act (he was right of course). He got an A for effort and D for calling us the ‘Disciples’ 20 seconds after I reminded him it was the Disciplines (and it was on a video screen in front of him, he might actually get an F for that). But we tore into it, true to my word I tried a slightly more confrontational style, but also gave as much ‘fuck ya’ll” attitude as I could. I think it worked, and I think we played even better than we did at the first London show. The audience were typical cold fish of London, but they had a nice bar in the other room to hang out in, so, they stayed, which is saying a lot…some people even danced a bit, which is huge, it’s like getting the Buckingham Palace guards to breakdance. So, after the show, I was pretty happy. We had lots of friends back there to say hello, in that awful room it felt like a real aftershow. Claus and Baard left early in the morning, so Bjorn and I parked ourselves at a series of cafes, eventually I headed to the train station and before I knew it I was in a crowded club in my neighborhood, which I never knew existed, called L’Opa, watching my friends Kite and Fly perform. The next night I went to see the Who, courtesy of my friend Rangi, who is on their crew. Dom and I got to watch from the soundboard. You know, the Who really got me going on the high-energy rock thing, the jumping, the thrashing, the going for broke every night style that I incorporated into the Posies, for example. I surely wanted to be Pete Townshend when I was 13. And the band, now down to two surviving members, continued to impress. Pete still sounds like Pete, Roger still sings like Roger. Their set list hits all the high marks, the new songs are good; I had a great time, I’ve seen the Who 4 times now in 3 different decades, I’m just glad they’re still doing it. Me, I have a slightly different philosophy than the band –I hope I * live * before I get old. I had the pleasure of meeting Roger, and Simon Townshend, after the show, both of whom were very friendly and extremely healthy looking! Roger gave me some warm up tips, and we chatted about songwriting for a couple of minutes. Good stuff! Of course it’s hard to be cool when you meet someone that has been a part of your musical life for so long, but Dom said I did pretty well. I had fun, anyway, and I know I didn’t do anything completely stupid despite the fact I was a bit intimidated! The next day I slept in, and unfortunately so did everyone else, we got some dirty looks from the crèche bringing Aden in on the late side. I can’t imagine what kind of life they think we live—well, I can, I think it’s pretty much like the one we do; we travel a lot, we don’t go to 9 to 5 jobs and no week is like the other, and our little girl is not like the others. She is bright and funny; unfortunately she doesn’t always respect authority (she respects us, but not always the people at the crèche). We’re working on it. But hey, she’s certainly not a drone. You can’t mistake her, or miss her in a room. That night it was Kite and Fly’s birthday, they are twins, I’ve known them for years, and I had the pleasure of meeting their mom and sister, who live up in Queensland (it was, coincidentally, my friend from the Who’s crew Rangi’s birthday, and he * also * lives way up in Queensland). We went to a great little wine bar called Wini Jun’s for a birthday drink, and then had dinner together. Yep, this week has been a good one for the babysitters… On Friday I played 3 hours of tennis with my friend Remi, he’s getting married this week and going on a long honeymoon so this was our last chance to play for a month or so, in all likelihood we overdid it but it was great fun. I could barely walk up the stairs when I got home at about 10.30 that night. Yesterday I spent a brilliant morning with the girls, at the market, at the park etc. and then flew to Barcelona. I attended the seminar that I will be teaching today, yesterday’s was taught by Spanish engineer Paco Loco, and then had dinner at the always mind blowing Arola restaurant (at which I will be playing next month!). Hit a coupla bars, the usual Barcelona thing! Anyway, I’m at my hotel now, and probably will post this tomorrow, with a description of the class and show, as there’s no internet here at the hotel. Boo hoo. The Roland Garros men’s singles final starts at 3, that’s a bummer, as I have to leave for the class at 3.30! It’s like that, eh? OK, time for siesta…one doesn’t get to do that too often…it’s like 90 degrees outside and thus I am inclined to take it easy…if only I had my rackets and a partner here in BCN tho’! Love KS Esplugues de Llobregat, SPAIN
6.03.2007
WORLD OF WHA? Monday was Aden’s third birthday…Dom had to work, but it was a bank holiday, and there was no crèche. Unfortunately, the weather was quite dreary, it rained and rained, most of the French Open was rained out, e.g. Thus, we didn’t get to do some of the things we talked about doing, like going for pony rides in the Jardin du Luxembourg. But, we played together and had fun. In the evening, Dom, Aden & I went for dinner at a local favorite, La Polichinelle. Just a little bar and restaurant down the street from us, they are very friendly, and the food is really quite good. We usually go there or to Les Gallopins, and we’re never disappointed, or feeling like Aden’s toddler energy is bumming everyone out. We ended the night all sprawled on the Hide-A-Bed that we bust out for movie nights, and I put everyone to sleep with Antonioni’s “La Notte”. Including me! I was tired, and the movie takes its time to set up each little scene. The results are wonderful, tho’—it’s a great film, no doubt, and I really love Jeanne Moreau’s acting, look, and character in the film. Tuesday and Wednesday I really tried to rest, knowing this weekend in London would be take a lot of energy (and I find Disciplines shows to be very hard on the old bod, I am more tired after one of these than even a Posies thrashfest). I watched quite a bit of Roland Garros, took care of various undone tasks in my life. Tuesday evening I went to a fine restaurant with Dom, called Chez Michel, and then I met up with my long time friend Kite and Fly, of the band Blonde on Blonde, who were in town; we went to see Antibalas Afrobeat Orchestra, who are a New York-based band playing music very similar to what Fela Kuti played, but with bits of other styles layered in. Excellent band. LONDON, 6/1 I went a day early to London (I never like to do international travel on the same day as a show if I can avoid it). I came by Eurostar, which is truly the only way to fly, haha. They have security but it’s much more reasonable than what you go thru boarding a plane (and I have a feeling it’s just as effective). You do your ‘formalités’ on the departure side, so when you arrive in London or Paris you have no customs or immigration b.s. to do. And best of all, I can get to and from the stations by metro—it takes me maybe 20 minutes to walk up to Bastille, board the metro, and get to Gare du Nord. If I want to, I can take the line by my house as well, I just have to change somewhere along the way to line 5. The trains are comfortable, quiet, and you can even get a meal service if you want (ten euros) and I imagine there is a bar car I just never really needed to investigate that. I stayed with my friend Meggean, who used to be the Posies/my booking agent, in the early part of this decade. She quit the biz and went back to school and is now pursuing her master’s here in London. She lives in a flat in Crouch End, which is a leafy and pleasant area in the north of London. She lives right by a huge park, with walking trails, tennis courts, and of course a cricket ground. We dined in her neighborhood and met some other friends for a coupla drinks. On the day of the show we went walking thru the trails (I don’t usually bring a change of clothes so imagine that I am wearing what I wore onstage that night—a button down tight black shirt, a silver silk tie, skintight black jeans and white shoes!! What a jerk) in the park, and took lunch at a pub. I started to make my way to central London, taking bus and tube (the Duloks gave me an Oyster card when I worked with them—a regular ticket on the Tube can cost you £4!! That’s almost $8. The Oyster card knocks it down to £1.50). I got to the Borderline, and found the backstage entrance, buzzed in. I helped Havana Guns, the headliners, load in (they were letting us use their backline, after all). They soundchecked; I sent zillions of text messages trying to sort out the guest list and such. Dom arrived, fresh off the Eurostar, with Audrey from Liquid Architecture. My bandmates had come and gone, having arrived before Havana Guns meant there was nothing for them to do. Anyway, the sound guy at the Borderline knows the place, and with a minimum of fuss had Havana Guns running thru songs in like 5 minutes—somehow avoiding that awful part where each drum gets banged for five minutes—truly the most awful part of my day on tour, typically. So, suddenly it was our turn, and the D-plines arrived just in time. We blazed thru some songs and voila. I was really impressed by that sound guy, the thing is, people running sound unfortunately aren’t often noticed until something is * wrong * with the sound, so I’d like to give three cheers to this man. Disciplines, Dom, Audrey, Chris (rec. engineer who worked on Briskeby’s album, and assisted me when I mixed Jim Protector at the same studio) all strolled out into the madness that is Charing Cross road, and Soho, on a Friday night. Soho looked like the set of a movie where a bunch of yuppies take to the streets and make a Calcutta of business school dudes (I am basing this image on Darius’ description of how crowded streets were with pedestrians in India). Actually, the really Indian part of Singapore is like this, bajillions of people walking the streets and sidewalks, to the point where you can feel a bit vertiginous and start to…freak out. But, we persevered, and actually found a place with a table big enough for us opening up. We were joined by a very energetic couple who have a management co.; this trip was also about meeting some people who might be able to help us getting from point A to point U for Universally Known Household Name…or whatever interesting destination might be out there worth pointing at. The show was a typical first-time-in-London-trial-by-fire; people had their cool costumes on, but, we managed to get the applause for our unknown band above the polite level, and after the show we got lots of compliments. I didn’t want to appear too eager to please, too nervous, trying too hard, etc. I didn’t spend the whole show confronting the audience in the space between the stage and them; I didn’t even bother chastising them to get closer. We just rocked away like we didn't need them, and I think this was the way to go. I will experiment with a bit more confrontation, but in a fun way, tomorrow night. As always, after the show I was fairly empty, I really found it hard to talk to anyone. But, I shook a few hands, talk to some new fans, and a few KS/REM/Posies etc etc fans who came, plus friends like Willie Williams, who has designed the lights etc. for REM & U2; my bro Neil from Fender/Gretsch who converted me to those lovely black guitars you see me play; and so on. After awhile, I was starting to seriously fade, so Dom & I walked out to the neighborhood around the Mean Fiddler and had the naïve notion we would get a cab. Yeah right, Friday night after the Tube stops running, about 40,000 drunk Londoners all trying to go home…we were fighting nasty drunk blonde chicks for the opportunity to get close to a cab that had disembarking passengers. Fucking hell. Amazingly, one snuck thru the melee, and we were finally on a trajectory towards sleep. Dom had booked us at the EasyHotel, yes, part of the EasyJet and EasyCafe family. Now, I fly Easyjet from time to time, and it’s not ideal (I really hate fighting for optimal seats) but it’s cheap and they fly to lots of places from Paris. The EasyCafes around London have been useful for checking mail on tour from time to time. I’m not sold on the hotel, and I’m not sure that at £60 it’s even competitive with the little B&Bs (just easier to book in advance online, I guess). You get: a little cube with a bed that’s really just a mattress on a dias that’s part of the structure of the room, not really a piece of furniture. There’s just enough floorspace left for luggage, provided you don’t need to open the door. Then there’s a small bathroom with a tiny shower and a toilet and sink. It’s even called ‘a tiny loo’ on the door. I mean, it’s very clean, but…no elevator, and a particularly harsh check out time (10am, tho’ they didn’t seem to be concerned when we came down around 10.30). Kind of emergency use only, I guess. It wasn’t awful, but…I’m not sure to come back. We ended up stumbling to a Sainsbury’s near the hotel, breakfasting at (forgive me) a Starbucks that lives inside; then we did some shopping for Aden’s expected cadeaux for when Dom & I return, and then made our way to our friends’ place, who were putting us up for the night. One is a tour manager who’s worked for some really big bands, and one works in a posh member’s only club here. They have a cute little house in a pretty quiet neighborhood near Queen’s Park. Strolling thru the park yesterday on our way to have lunch, and going on my treks with Meggean the other day, made me realize how lucky Londoners are to have parks in such quantity and quality. The parks in Paris always seem to be either pathetic little patches of gravel with a few trees, or just downright dangerous. Or out in the sticks. Chateau de Vincennes and environs seems the best bet, where I usually play tennis. But, seeing everybody out on the grass dozing in the sun yesterday…it’s just a little more complicated to that simple thing in Paris. Eventually Dom & I headed to Shepard’s Bush, and went to see Emily Haines play at Bush Hall. Upon arrival, I realized that REM had played the place a few years ago, we played a little show that was broadcast for radio. It’s a lovely, shabby old place with red carpet and crystal chandeliers. Mike Andrews, who composed the score for Miranda July’s film “Me and You and Everyone We Know” (I loved both the film and the score very much), as well as being the producer for albums by Metric, Les Sans Culottes, Gary Jules and doing score for “Donnie Darko” as well…well, he’s a talented man to be sure. And he has a geeky charm, he reminds me in so many ways of Jon Brion—they are LA guys, who have a kind of preppy feel about them, and accent that with sort of clown-colored, old-fashioned thrift store suits, like cartoon preppies, if cartoon characters had to go to prep school. They are approachable, and seem to make an effort to show humility at all times despite their massive CVs (at times during the set, I thought MA’s self-deprecation became kind of annoying, like it started to feel forced). And, they seem to really be good at what they do when it’s in collaboration with someone else. Netither Brion’s nor Andrews’ solo work has thrilled me as much as their scores or productions have. MA’s set was interesting to be sure, intricately fingerpicked guitars and a lot scale climbing melodies…but it didn’t quite burn a hole in me, so to speak. Emily Haines’ talent really doesn’t allow her to anything unpleasant or ill-conceived. She’s really a great singer, a fabulous lyricist--to the point that I sometimes want to quit writing lyrics after listening to her—she is illustrative, elaborate and unusual when the situation calls for it, or simple and direct when the situation calls for it. She shows strength, vulnerability, intelligence, playfulness, wisdom…She plays piano really well, her chord changes are interesting and far from run of the mill. The staging was clever too. In front of the stage (I was too far back to see this during the show, so there’s a bit of speculation here) was a table and chair, a laptop, a musical keyboard, and a projector, Power-Point style, projecting images onto the wall behind the musicians. From that spot, someone ran the backing loops, played along, and stopped and started the projections. The images projected were all black and white snippets of Guy Maddin films, which she incorporated with his blessing. On stage a string quartet accompanied her piano playing, that was truly marvelous. It was assembled with great intelligence, and incredible attention to detail. Her stage banter, when audible (I was in the back, so if she didn’t speak in the mic, there was no hope of me hearing it) was disarming and goofy, not so spot on that you’d find her intimidating. My bandmates came along and all loved her show. If I had to level a criticism, it’s that the show, and the songs, are so intelligent, the brains tend to trump the heart. The best moments are where her voice wavers, and her emotions threaten to dirty up the proceedings with their messy human energies. I would love to see her let go and dig up something painful, a bit of the ugly side of life. Without that, the environment is a little too controlled for it to be a fully moving experience, so one is left to gain meaning from the masterful execution and the few little glimpses of intensity that come thru the cracks. That’s not to say I don’t recommend going to see her, or to listen to her wonderful album “Knives Don’t Have Your Back”—both experiences are highly recommended. In fact, I admire her work so much, that I have set my expectations much higher than I would for most other artists, and I only see where I think she get to with skills that intense. After the show, Dom & I went to look for a quick bite to eat; somehow, we ended up on Edgeware Road, and stopped into a Lebanese place (there are many on that street) and were about to see what they could make quickly, when Dom pointed out we should go elsewhere, as the building was on fire…sure enough, when I looked out at the street, the defined beams of all the cars made geometric shapes in the accruing pall. We went into another place, and had a kind of shwarma and some dolmathes, and in a couple of minutes all the fire engines started to arrive, and we saw the huge ladder extending up to a long chimney that seemed to be the source of the trouble. Then we realized that the small amount of ambient smoke we had inhaled was really making us cough, it took awhile to calm my quivering lungs—imagine what it must be like to * really * inhale smoke in a burning building. Our next stop was the Dorchester Hotel Ballroom; I’d stayed at the Dorchester many times in the past, but I never went to the ballroom; usually it was a disco for guests consisting of a few Emirs in pursuit of suitable company for the night. But this night it was the site of a massive party to celebrate the launching of Damien Hirst’s new show, featuring perhaps the most expensive object d’art ever-you can read all about that here. The party itself involved about 1000 guests, a band and DJs providing music, open bars, food, bottomless champagne, and little chocolates that look like silver pebbles (and little cupcakes with metallic silver frosting that were superb). Amazingly, the only celebrity I spotted was Jarvis Cocker. The rest of the guests were people involved in the contemporary art scene (like Audrey from Liquid Architecture, which explains our invite) and then presumably the only kind of people that can afford to buy Hirst’s art—hedge fund managers and other bajillionaires. Even Mick Jagger is a bit too under-wealthed to be in this market. It’s for billionaires. But we had a great time, the party had a great mood and I drained as much Laurent-Perrier as I could. Incredibly, we still had enough energy to go to Momo, a Middle-Eastern grotto of a bar and resto; it was here that Madonna recently celebrated her birthday. For my part, about 13 coupes of champagne into the night, was starting to fall asleep. So, we called it a night, it must have been…4? Today we spent the afternoon on Carnaby St., doing some shopping at “Beyond the Valley” a store of design-heavy casual clothes and household objects. Like a small Collette. Something funny, there was an American girl, about 20, and her mom, who looked like Lady Bird Johnson, shopping there. The girl didn’t find clothes she liked, but wanted a souvenir. She went to an accessories case and asked the sales guy what a certain object was. “A USB memory stick”, he replied. It was decorated with a golden virgin mary, the only clue was the USB interface sticking out of the bottom. “What’s that?” she asked. The sales guy had a hard time explaining what it was and having it be understood. To me he was clear as a bell—it was detachable flash memory for transporting files from a computer. She was still unsure what it was…(what 20 year old doesn’t know what a flash USB memory is?) BUT SHE WANTED IT ANYWAY! She asked the price. “90” he said. “90 dollars?, OK, yeah I’ll get that”. He reminded her that we were dealing with pounds here in London. Finally, he rang it up, and when she saw the bill…”Oh I thought it was nineteen”. And he had to unwrap it, refund the transaction…man, it’s good to see a brunette give the blondes a run for their money!! The Disciplines play 93 Feet East tomorrow night at 10. Love KS London
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The latest release by Ken Stringfellow is a split EP with Spain's Muy Fellini, featuring never-heard-before music incl. Ken's take on Bob Dylan, released by
King of Patio records
in Spain on Oct 8, 2009.
Order it directly from Muy Fellini here www.myspace.com/muyfellini
10" VINYL ONLY!!!
older news :
8/3/2003
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