Its been nearly a week since I got back from seeing “Pearl Jam 20″ at the cinema and the effect hasn’t quite left me yet.  A 20 year summation of one of my favourite bands, brilliantly captured on screen, reminded me of why I love music so much and why for the longest time, all I wanted to be was a musician.  All week long I’ve been going back through the Pearl Jam catalogue with a renewed sense of understanding and vitality.  Catching a glimpse of songs in there conception and in context has left me in a state of delirium and envy at just how good this band were. (I love the last album but unfortunately it seems like the bottled lightning they once possessed has all but dissapeared).

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I could spend line upon line trying to explain all the different facets that make a band and a song so great to me but I wanted to make a point about the importance of a great singer and more importantly a great voice….  Eddie Vedder, the singer and focal point of Pearl Jam was born with it.  A baritone bluster, that could stop a heart beating one minute and tear down walls the next.  An ability to jump from soulful croon to throat ripping scream at the drop of a hat.  I suppose I’ve spent this week in a state of awe, travelling on trains, headphones on ears, smiling to my self as Vedder chews through another song.  Unfortunately, this has led to a begrudging acceptance as well, something I’ve always known but daren’t admit.  Being a singer myself and for the longest time wanting to emulate my heroes on record,  it’s just not something I possess… I’ve worked at it and feel I’ve improved it (a new album in the works that listening to, I feel attests to this).  I just haven’t got that magic…

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I’ve always been able to sing, I’ve just never had the voice.

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I think of all my favourite music and all my favourite bands and every single one of them has it.  A singer born to sing, with a voice gifted from God.  People will tell you that if you work hard enough you can achieve it… I disagree, you can improve your range, pitch even tone, but you can’t create the magic if it wasn’t there to begin with.

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This isn’t a ‘woe is me’ rant… I feel fortunate to be able to sing well and there are a lot of people out there who can’t.  It’s just that some people are born with it and it takes a bout 10 seconds of hearing Vedder sing to realize he’s one of them.

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Here’s what I mean.

With the release of a new Red Hot Chilli Peppers album pending, I found myself delving into their back catalogue and coming to the before unknown conclusion that they are in fact one of my favourite bands.  If I’m honest, when I was younger, I never thought they’d better Blood Sugar Sex Magic.  Frusciante left, One Hot Minute was decent but patchy at best and things with the band seemed to hit a downward curve.  5 years passed, Frusciante returned and then came the one-two punch of Californication and By The Way, low on the Kiedis lewdness (Purple Stain being a notable exception) and high on great songwriting and musicianship.  The rock that is the Chilli’s rhythm section had always been there and was still sounding ‘jaw droppingly’ good, but now Kiedis’ singing had matured into something unique, special and confident, Frusciantes harmonies soared over every aspect of the albums and his guitar work had reached new levels of awesomeness!  Next, a double album was mooted and eventually appeared in the form of Stadium Arcadium.  The excitement was intense, that is, until I gave it a few listens and realized that it was just another example of a band releasing a good double album instead of a potentially classic single album… Other notable offenders include, Guns N Roses, ‘Use Your Illusion’, Smashing Pumpkins, ‘Mellon Collie’, Bruce, ‘The River’, Prince, ‘Sign Of The Times’ (to name but a few).

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I suppose there is a kind of beauty in the grandisose statement of a double album, that ambitous shot at greatness, the flaws mixed with the genius (and more bang for your buck).  It’s just sometimes I think what turns out to be a good double album, could have in fact been a bona fide classic album all on its own if only they’d shown restraint and got rid of some of the chaff.  Now, I love all of the double albums listed above but I’ve spent many a time listening to them and wondering what they would have been like if just released on there own and what songs would have made the final cut…

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Well ladies and gentlemen, after listening to Stadium Arcadium non-stop for the past week, I’ve decided to give you what I consider to be the definitive ‘single’ classic album that it could have been… away with the chaff, only the 10 strongest survive…

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Desecration Smile - Although side two is the weaker side of the album, this song is one of the strongest I think they’ve ever released.  A great example of Kiedis’ growing assurance as a singer, an awesome chorus, great harmonies and some beautiful guitar work.

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Dani California - I remember eagerly waiting for this song to debut on channel four and being extremely excited with what I heard (especially after the outro guitar solo, the sound of a band firing on all cylinders!). One of my favourite middle-eights as well…

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Readymade – I always feel this song is a bit of a guilty pleasure. Heavy on the ”Rage Agianst The Machine’ influence, its just a very good band making things sound all too easy.  Plus, the solo gets me everytime… ‘clean it up Johnny’.

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Stadium Arcadium – Whilst not as good as it’s sister song, ‘Californication’, this is still a great number and a fine example of Kiedis’ tendency to both baffle and confound with his lyrics.

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Snow (Hey Oh) – Chilled out Chillis… A deceptively tricky guitar riff underpins a song that could be a bit shorter in run time but is still a good listen nonetheless.

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Hump De Bump – Another guilty pleasure.  As soon as the guitar book became available, I bought it and have to say this is by far the most fun song to play along to (which is why it makes the list)!  As good and influential as Frusciante is on this album, Flea and Chad Smith must be an absolute joy and inspiration to work with (and who knew Flea could play the trumpet)!

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Slow Cheetah – I’ve always been partial to a bit of fingerpicked acoustic guitar so this song was always going to make the list. An understated gem with more great harmonies by Frusciante on the chorus.

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Torture Me - Frusciante is all over this song, both on the guitar and with the vocals.  It’s really hard to say anything about Flea that hasn’t been said before, but he really is as good as everyone makes out and someone who both makes you want to pick up a Bass and learn how to play it whilst at the same time making you feel like there’s actually no point in even trying!

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Turn It Again - A great groove propels this song along, the chorus may not be the best but the verses more than make up for that.

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Wet Sand – This is just one of my favourite Chilli’s songs hands down.  It just teases and builds into a great climax that has me reaching for the repeat button on the CD player nearly everytime.  A relatively simple progression given weight by a great band doing what they do best.  To quote Nigel Tufnell, “it’s just simple lines, intertwining” but boy do they do it well….

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I think you’ll agree, a pretty damn good album.  And if you don’t… well, why not give it a go yourselves!

An idea stolen from a friend (http://newjonnytransit.wordpress.com/), his rules can be found below….

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This week…
Some good old-fashioned mix-tape fun. No thrills (on my part, at least) – just a simple, daily (#more likely to be weekly) celebration of especially excellent music-making.

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Why?
Shits and giggles. And because “nothing better fills up the time between birth and death than listening to music” (p. 2, The Idiots Guide to Avoiding Existential Angst).

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Rules?
10 songs each, that’s all.

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Disclaimer:
My friend has already covered most of the great songs by these artists that it would be nearly impossible to leave off of a mix tape if you were making it for someone else. For the purposes of my own indulgence, I wanted to include some of my personal favourites and the reasons why I often listen to the album through but before taking it out of the CD player or moving on, I go back and listen to these particular songs one more time, almost as a nod to there importance to me…

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Before reading on:

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Check out my friends original mix tape here… His song list was as follows: Tangled Up In Blue, Love Minus Zero/No Limit, The Times They Are  A Changin’, I Want You, Desolation Row, Like A Rollin Stone, Simple Twist Of Fate, One More Cup Of Coffee, Mississippi, Its All Over Now, Baby Blue… (A pretty darn good mix tape, I’m sure you’ll agree).

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Here’s my Dylan 10:

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Girl From The North Country: Last time I listened to this song, in a pensive mood on a particularly rainy day, I remember thinking if I could ever write something so simple, so beautiful and so perfectly earnest I think I would die a contented man.  Dylans often underrated guitar skills underpin the simplest of melodies.  One of the most beautiful songs about longing you could ever hope to hear. (That it’s followed by ‘Masters Of War’, Dylan at his most caustic, only adds to its beauty.)

The Lonesome Death Of Hattie Carroll: Where do you begin with this song?  To handle a heartbreaking tale with such deftness, subtletly and above all maturity is something that is beyond pretty much 99.9% of any other songwriters out there.  (I wouldn’t even know where to begin!)  Great singing, a wonderful little harmonica solo and one of the most devastating last verses ever committed to tape.  The lines “got killed by a blow, lay slain by a cain, that sailed through the air and came down through the room.  Doomed and determined to destroy all the gentle, and she never done nothing to William Zanzinger”, always leave me short of breath…  That it’s a true story makes it even more vital.

I Don’t Believe You (She Acts Like We Never Have Met) - An underrated gem off of ‘Another Side Of Bob Dylan’.  A song I enjoy for many reasons… Firstly, as a fine example of what my friend Mr Petty refers to as ‘Dylan Time’.  A habit he has of playing out of time at certain moments, adding extra beats to bars or just playing bum notes.  Something, I know certain people dislike but for me it just adds to the realness, it feels like it’s something he’s just thrown together in the studio yet it’s still really accomplished. Secondly, it’s a fine example of Dylans, great use of last verses or lines to tie a song up.  Thirdly, although the song is of a slightly frustrated nature, Dylans skill as a writer is to make it seem a lot more playful and, I suppose, just a lot more fun than it has every right to be.

It Aint Me Babe: I always think this song would be a perfect Beatles number. Great structure, a simple conceit told with a relative ease that leaves you wondering why all songs aren’t this good. Brilliant, yet simple melodies in the verse and pre chorus and just a great hook for the chorus.  All it needs is some McCartney bass and Lennon harmonies to wrap it up nicely…

Mr Tambourine Man: I know Dylans voice can be somewhat devisive, but in my opinion, he just nails it on this song. The rawness and the flow are just about perfect and I would happily listen to this version 10 times over than hear any of the cover versions.  Although, the lyrics are interpretative to the point of reason, there’s just something uplifting about the whole experience… “on a jingle, jangle morning, I’ll come following you”.  The only time I’ve actively stopped to listen to a busker was in Brussels and the man had just started to play this song.  I walked away from him like someone who had just discovered the answers to all the questions in the universe (though I regretably forgot to give him some change).

Its All Over Now, Baby Blue – Just a brilliantly written song.  Great singing, chord changes, melodies and lyrics… and that refrain “Its all over now, baby blue”. It just hits you in the gut everytime.  It’s like being set up up for a knock down every verse and being finsihed off with the most devastating of punches over and over again.  I covered this song at a gig once and afterwards a young girl approached me and told me how amazing she thought my last song was… I thought about it for a second before telling her that it wasn’t my song but by the man called Dylan.

Desolation Row: Dylan conjures up what seem like dozens of great stories and fits them into a dozen minutes of greatness.   Everytime he starts a new verse you’re transported somewhere different with so many great lines, it really is hard to know where to begin.  I know it’s cliched but everytime I listen to this song, I swear I get something new out of it. It really is a song that keeps giving…

Queen Jane Approximately: Personally, I feel this is one of Dylans most accessible songs.  Uplifting piano and a melody that’s easy on the ears.  It’s a song I always skip back to at the end of every ‘Highway 61 Revisted’ listen.

Stuck Inside Of Mobile With The Memphis Blues Again: Whenever I’m doing an impression of Dylan, this is always the song I look to mimic… “Oh mama, can this really be the end”. It’s almost like he’s sending himself up a little. It just moves along at such a jaunty pace, and just when you think he must have run out of things to say, back in he comes with another verse (and another, and another, and another)!

You’re A Big Girl Now: On an album of great songs (Tangled Up In Blue, Idiot Wind, If You See Her Say Hello) this song always holds a place in my heart.  A song I found solace in during a suitably youthful angst ridden moment in my life… Everyday girl troubles given scope and grandeur by some great lines “Our conversation was short and sweet, it nearly swept me off of my feet, and I’m back in the rain, oh, and you are on dry land. You made it there some how, you’re a big girl now.”

“When the change was made uptown and the big man joined the band. From the coast line to the city all the little pretties raised their hands.” Tenth Avenue Freeze Out, Springsteen 1975

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Clarence Clemons, the legendary sax player in the E Street Band who played with Bruce Springsteen for the past 40 years, died on June 18th. Clemons had suffered a massive stroke on June 12th.

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The last time I saw Clarence was when Bruce and The E Street Band came to Hyde Park last summer… brilliant as always, Clarence spent a lot of his time sitting down, but the biggest cheers of the night were always reserved for him whenever he stepped forward to do his thing.  I remember being deeply upset though when he struggled through his Jungleland solo and was visably struggling to stand afterwards.  As Nils Lofgren helped him back to his seat and checked to see if he was okay, I remember a great sadness washing over me.  A selfish thought I know, but I had a bad feeling I would never get the chance to see my favourite band of all time in all its glory again.  I know Daniel Federici had recently departed (and his influence was a significant one) but this was the Big Man… The Minister Of Soul, Secretary of The Brotherhood, King Of The World, MASTER Of The Universe, , Clarence, Clarence Clarence….

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Bruce Springsteen and The E Street Band always felt like an extended family.  Their songs, their personalities were something that never let you down, something that would brighten up your day first thing in the morning and something that would keep you company when you got in late at night. Clarence at times seemed bigger than life itself… I remember going through a phase in my early twenties when I purchased as many Bruce 75-85 bootleg DVDs as I could afford… It seemed like a diferent time, one of great change and barriers being broken down.  Side by side he stood like a giant lighthouse beaming across the stage, in all manner of outlandish attire… like he needed crazy coloured clothes to make him any more noticeable!  But I suppose that was the point,  he was in on it himself, the magic, the passion the sheer significance of it all!  But above all, he made it look fun. He made it look like there was nothing else you’d rather be doing, like he had all the keys to the kingdom and all the answers to every question in the universe!

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I remember writing songs at this time and I started to look at putting a band together.  I didn’t look at getting a solid rhythm section, a piano player or another guitar player to carry my burden. No… I wanted to find myself a saxophone player, that’s how much I valued his importance at the time… ‘I need to find my Big Man’, I kept telling myself.  Hs onstage presence was legendary and any footage you are lucky enough to see of him will tell you that he brought that same energy night after night after night.

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All this significance would mean very little if the man couldn’t play… and boy could he play!  Just put on the album ‘Born To Run’ and listen to the breaks, the solos, the grandeur everytime Clarence has his say!  For years I thought this was what every sax player would sound like… the chops, the feel, the bluster and the fire that crashed out of that man!  I never realized just how unique he was, “when they built you brother, they broke the mould”. The highlights are too many to list but the Jungleland solo, She’s The One break (it makes the song), Born To Run solo, The Promised Land Solo… there are just too many personal favourtites to mention.  But for me, the Big Mans, significance and sound is epitomized in Rosalita.  He’s all over it, verse after verse, firing the song off into the stratosphere.  The song breaks down and he faces down bruce’s guitar breaks with wild abandon.  (To see this trade off live is to witness something akin to live perfection.)  Then as it builds up again you have what is one of my favourite moments in music fullstop!  “Cause the record company Rosie, just gave me a big advance… And my tyres were slashed and I almost crashed but the lord had mercy!”  Musical Nirvana and Clarence is right there in the middle of it with you, bringing you along for the ride.

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When I heard the news today, like so many other people I guess, I was more upset than I imagined I would be.  This man wasn’t devisive like many poeple who entertain us can be… he was a guarantee, one of the few. A giant, saxophone playing beacon of hope and fun and someone you could always rely on to bring a smile to your face, on record and on stage…

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RIP Clarence Clemons, at times bigger than life itself and the one and only Big Man.

Saturday night, looking for something to do that didn’t involve sitting in and watching tele, Nik spotted something in Time Out that she thought might be an interesting thing for us to do.  A group of like-minded individuals at The Hand Baked Arcade were putting on an ‘Button Bash’ arcade night over in Kings Cross.  Basically, they took over a pub and set up a variety of retro games, consoles and accessories (Megadrive, Master System, SNES, NES, Atari) for everybody to play on.

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Now I’m usually the first to voice my displeasure about going up into the city on a Saturday night, but I knew this was something I had to experience.  The journey was long and the pub was a little bit off of the beaten track but when we finally arrived and walked through the front doors, it was like stepping into a tiny bit of my own personal nostalgic pub heaven.  Classic games consoles everywhere, with the right type of chilled out people playing them.  Games I had forgotten existed, crackling on monitors, useless skills I had acquired down the years suddenly recalled back into existence.  It was like someone had taken photos of my life through the years and put them into computer game form.  Rampage, Wolfenstein, Super Mario Bros, Bomberman, Mario Kart for the SNES, Mario Kart for the N64, all games that I had grown up with, each representing different parts of my life.  I could happily have stayed there all night playing multiplayer Bomberman with seven other like-minded individuals or getting my arse handed to me by some freakishly good player on Mario Kart.  Unfortunately, the time flew by and our last train beckoned so we made our way home.  Trying hard not to bore everyone with what had just happened but promising to make sure the world knew of this night (and the possibility of others).  Kudos to the people responsible, I really hope they continue doing what they are doing and make a success of it.

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My only issue though, and the only blemish on what was otherwise a very well put together evening… where the hell was Goldeneye?  N64 benchmark, awesome solo game, set the standard for multiplayer games for years to come and in my opinion the greatest game ever!  My friend and I had been chatting about Proximity Mines, Golden Guns, Oddjob and Sniper Rifles all the way up there only to be scuppered in our four player plans. It was still good to remish though and I reckon if I’d had a few more beers in me I may well have made that crazy ebay purchase of a battered N64 I came close to making when I got in….

Let me start off by saying that as great a day as it was and how great it felt to be a part of it… I’m really glad that the Virgin London Marathon 2011 is over.

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It’s hard to write this without touching upon the same stories, the same feelings and the same experiences that everyone else who’s ever run the marathon has told you about.  There’s a reason for this though…. it’s because they are more or less all true… it really is great to just be a part of it, the crowd really is amazing and keeps you going through all the aches and pains, the initial wonder you experience is slowly overcome by a begrudging annoyance over when it will end, and there really is a big frickin wall that hit anywhere from 10 to 25 miles in.  I suppose that’s one of the reasons why so many people run it and find it within themselves to run it again… there’s something universal about the whole thing and whether you are watching or taking part, it really does bring out a sense of community and camaraderie that is unfortunately too rare a thing these days.

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I suppose for the spectators, they might say that watching people run the marathon is a real testament to the triumph of the human spirit (or a good excuse to have a few beers in the sunshine).  Watching ordinary people putting themselves through extraordinary pain, all in the name of a good cause or  just for the sake of saying they’ve achieved something.  For me, running around on what turned out to be an uncomfortably hot day, I was overcome by the good will of it all.  People from different cultures and of all ages coming together to support you on your way.  I love London and am proud to tell people that’s where I’m from (when the need arises).  However, I’m also fully aware it’s not without its flaws, especially if you have to travel to work there everyday!  Sometimes all this potential is lost in the routine of everyday lives and everyday problems.  Yesterday, was the first time in a long time I remembered just how great London can be.

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Yesterday, I fell in love with London again…

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Bermondsey, an area I would usually avoid like the plague was suddenly alive with cheers and enough good will to blow you over Tower Bridge without breaking sweat.  The Commercial Road, my pathway into the big city, a road so frustrating by it’s abject dinginess and limited access to the two tunnels that take me home was suddenly over run with people shouting and swaying on the pavements. St James Park and Buckingham Palace, a a place for the tourists, seldom mentioned as somewhere you might entertain visiting if you’ve lived in London for any part of your life suddenly became a significant beacon on your 26.2 mile journey… a more fitting place to finish I can’t imagine.

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The race was tough, the training insufficient, the weather too hot but the experience was amazing.  And the train journey home, a journey I’ve experienced far too many times to mention was the most friendly and enjoyable I’ve ever had.  Nobody listening to their music too loud and everybody chatting to complete strangers sat across from them about their day and their experiences.  It really just flew by and made you wish that every time could be like that.

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On a personal note, I finished the race in 4hrs 44mins (after wrongly checking my phone and thinking I’d done it in 4hrs 30)!  I naively hoped before the race that I might do it in sub 4hrs but having done the miles I realize now that that was never a possibility.  I feel I ran a very similar race to a lot of other people out there… a good first half and a very painful second half.  Around 19 miles my legs went and it was a slow part walk part run final 7 miles.  If I’m brutally honest though, I just didn’t do enough training and paid the consequences.  And though I’m slightly disappointed in my time, I can hold my hand on my heart and say I really did give it everything I had (and I’m suffering the consequences of that today!) and am proud of myself for that.

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Having set out a marathon playlist before the race, I ended up starting the race listening to the new Foo Fighters album ‘Wasting Light’ not once but TWICE through before switching to the designated playlist.  (The album really is that good and saw me through the first 10 miles with ease.)  Other musical highlights were Two Step by the Dave Matthews Band coming on whilst running through Surrey Quays followed by Dress for Success by Roxette, Romeo and Juliet by Dire Straits encouraging me to start running again after I had walked through a big part of the Docklands and Ants Marching by the DMB stopping me from walking from St James Park to the finish line.

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(Other moments of musical inspiration were That Summer-Garth Brooks, Calico Skies- Paul McCartney, I’m Waiting For The Day-The Beach Boys (along Commercial Road), Losing Lisa-Ben Folds, Canadian Rose-Blues Traveller, My City Of Ruins-The Boss, No41 & Dreamgirl-DMB, Sequestered in Memphis-The Hold Steady, Centrefold-J.Giels Band, All Along The Watchtower-Hendrix, Serve The Servants-Nirvana, Fa-Fa-Fa-Fa-Fa-Otis Redding, The Fixer & Gonna See My Friend-Pearl Jam, I Wanna b ur Lover-Prince, Just-Radiohead, Wet Sand-Chilli Peppers, Mockingbird-Rob Thomas (top song), Mayonnaise-Smashing Pumpkins, He’s Misstra Know It All, Sir Duke & Signed, Sealed Delivered by Stevie Wonder, The Waiting-Tom Petty, Drops of Jupiter-Train)

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Other things I noted were getting my name printed on my shirt beforehand was the best tenner I’ve ever spent.  Hearing your name shouted along the way really makes you feel a lot better about yourself which is vitally important on the last few miles when you’re not feeling your best (even if no amount of shouting from a stranger in the crowd is going to stop your leg from seizing up!).  Also, having friends and family there to cheer you at certain points really does help you along.  Personally, knowing that I had those closest to me there to cheer me on at 15 and 19 miles really encouraged me to make it to those points and just having something to look forward to during the race is a big incentive to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

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And then it’s done, you cross the finish line and all those hours of training and stretching (and physio!) can be put to rest (for the majority of people anyway).  You congratulate friends, you congratulate people you don’t know and for me you struggle to carry your winners bag and belongings all the way back to Charing Cross.  The evening was a haze, a a mixture of exhaustion and hunger (and a little bit of sun stroke) made it all seem like a bit of an outer body experience.  I finally fell into bed with the aches and pains which are even more prominent now already settling in.  I woke up unusually early this morning and tried to think clearly about everything that had happened the day before…. so many memories yet so many things I”d already forgotten.  After thinking everything through I asked myself the most important question, the question that I’d been ignoring since I crossed the finish line.

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‘Would I do it again?’

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And I thought to myself…

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‘in a heartbeat’. (But I will give it a couple of years first!)

About once a month, Nik and I like to meet friends over in Greenwich for a cheeky pint and a little quiz action. The Richard the 1st pub quiz is one of those quizzes that is relatively simple and given the fact that there are only around five or six teams each week, quite an easy one to win.  The prize is never that big and sometimes amounts to nothing more than a voucher to be used behind the bar, but it’s the winning that counts right!?

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The group of us usually stick with the same safe team name every week (‘The Tolley Dolleys’- even though it’s explained to me and everyone else in the pub every week, I still don’t know what it means!)  Yesterday, the normal quiz master was away so we thought we’d change it up a little… and this is where the arguments began. It seems that when it comes to naming your quiz team you can’t please everyone.

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How do you come up with a decent team name at a quiz?  You need something that is funny and if you’re lucky topical… however, it’s got to be something that the whole room can understand (not just a private joke amongst friends).  It helps to be quite witty but then you don’t want to come across as being smug twats.  Personally, I like a bit of a rude team name, but you are then treading a fine line of being too crude or just a little pathetic.  I don’t know why, but it always descends into farce whenever this moment comes up at a quiz…. it’s just a name for pitys sake!  But if you nail it, and you actually get a laugh from the room when your score is read out at the end, it can almost mean more than the victory itself.

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Yesterday, we marked a paper at the end of the quiz by a team with the simplest of names, ‘Hand Shandy’.  I can’t tell you why I found this hilarious (and still do now) but I can reassure you I was the only one who did.  Every time we go, I suggest ‘The Bearded Clam Of Destiny’ (copyright of Dan Cooper) and every time I get shot down.  The only other time I’ve thought a name was worth a damn was when a friend came up with ‘The Guatanamo Bay City Rollers’.  I suppose for some people it’s just a gift that they have..

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Let me start by saying that what you’re about to read isn’t so much a review of the Ben Folds gig that I attended with my younger brother this Sunday night past, but instead a description of events that occurred on what turned out to be an eventful night in Hammersmith.

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I bought the tickets for my younger brother as a Christmas present.  Both being massive fans of Ben Folds and the high standard of music he has brought out over the past two decades for quite some time.  As much as I love Ben Folds, I have to admit  I was slightly hesitant in my purchase of the tickets based on the fact that his last album, ‘Lonely Avenue’, a collaboration with Nick Hornby was, if I’m honest, probably the worse thing he’s released.  We’d both given it a damn good listen to be sure, but the good stuff just never materialised.  Add to this the fact that this tour was in support of the album and you can see that there was a real possibility that we would have to stand through a lot of distinctly average stuff to get to the real good stuff.  I took a chance and bought the tickets anyway.

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Back to the evening though and it was the first time in a long time I got to just hang out with my brother. We decided to make a bit of a  day of it by first going to see ‘True Grit’ and then grabbing some dinner before eventually hitting the Hammersmith Apollo.  I feel now that our viewing of True Grit really set the tone for the rest of the evening, a film that came with a big reputation and, though being excellent in many areas, still fell short of our expectations.  As we discussed the film after the screening on the cold walk down Hammersmith High Street, we couldn’t quite put our finger on why the film hadn’t sat right.  The majority of our talk was about how good  a lot of aspects of it were. I think we were just asking for too much… I suppose we were expecting a five star movie and got a four star one instead, which in the grand scheme of things you can’t really complain about.

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Dinner was great, we caught up like only brothers can and talked about plans and how things change so quickly in life.  It was good to relax with a beer and a burger and I’m sure if we didn’t have the tickets and my brothers car wasn’t waiting for him at the station back home, we would have stayed there all night, drinking beers and playing out our memories.

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Onto the gig and it was busier than I anticipated. I was looking forward to a few beers but when the first pint came equipped with a £4.05 price tag, I nursed that baby for as long as I could and feared asking for another. Once inside, we made no real effort to get near the front but  certainly stood within good range of the stage, making sure we had given ourselves a lot of space to stand in.  Then came the first real surprise of the night, an actually decent support act!  This cute Australian singer called Kate Miller-Heidke came on stage with just her guitarist and generated a real good feeling in the place with a mix of strong songs, excellent singing and good rapport. (Check her out if you get the chance!)

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So far so good… Then Ben Folds hit the stage and suddenly things got a bit skewered. Firstly, our good view of the stage was interrupted by the sudden migration of two large men, not directly in front of us, but definitely within our periphery.  Now this is a real pet hate of mine at gigs and usually the reason I like to get there really early so as to get right down the front. Firstly, so I’m standing with people who actually want to be a t the gig (rather than one of the tall guys in front who was standing with his girlfriend and clearly didn’t have a clue what any of the songs were). Secondly, so that I’m not standing behind any giants and getting that horrible feeling that I’ve spent X amount of money to stare at the back of some guys noggin and thirdly, being a tall guy myself, I don’t inadvertently ruin someone else’s view. (Basically, it’s there own fault if I end up blocking there view as they shouldn’t have been standing behind me in the first place.)

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As is usually the way at gigs, although these guys were not directly in our way to begin with, after a few songs both of our views became non-existent thanks the the fact that these guys had slowly shuffled across to give themselves a better view whilst at the same time ruining ours.  Usually, at this point I get the real arse on, but trying to remain cool and not cause a scene I rationally suggested to my bro that we move back to get a better view.  This we did and things worked out fine for the next twenty minutes or so as our decision seemed to be bearing fruit.

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During this time, there was a group of young girls (early twenties) enjoying themselves in front of us, mainly by dancing and singing during the songs.  This was all fine until the backing band left the stage leaving just Ben Folds to play some of his ballads.  Unfortunately, instead of shutting the hell up and listening like everyone else, these girls thought this would be a good time to chat about things and do stuff on their phones.  Once again, a very annoying thing to do.  I found myself getting the arse on again, but trying to keep control of my emotions I decided be the bigger man and just let is slide.  Unfortunately for the girls, not everyone else around them was so forgiving.  First, a young guy guy next to them did the sensible thing and politely asked them to be quiet. Before they even had a chance to respond, the girl next to him, slightly more aggressively told them that if they wanted to talk they should go to the bar next door.  Then rather unnecessarily, the man standing behind them leaned across and told them to f##k off, that they were annoying everyone and should once again f##k off.   He then took his pint of whatever he was drinking and threw it over them… This was completely unnecessary and instead of sorting the situation out made it a hundred times worse.  They then proceeded to have a massive slagging match in which the girls, annoying as they were, argued there point quite succinctly whilst the man just kept aggressively telling them to f##k off.  For a second I thought about intervening, but for the life of me couldn’t think of anything to say. I stood staring at this guy, mouth open, but no words coming to mind. I turned to my brother who just shrugged his shoulders.  And we stood there awkwardly for two minutes whilst it played out over one of my favourite Ben Folds songs, ‘Mess’.  The song finished the girls were still asking the man to apologize, the man was still swearing.  I turned to my brother and with just a look we moved right up to the back of the venue away from the noise and what seemed like a mile away from the show.  I spent the next song thinking of how I should have intervened, how best to have gone about it and what I should have said.  To make matters worse, about ten minutes later the girls who had been involved in the incident moved from where they were and ended up standing right behind us discussing what had just happened.  My brother and I just turned to each other and just shrugged our shoulders again.  Thankfully, they didn’t stand there for very long and we watched the remainder of the show in peace but with a feeling that this would be the defining moment of the gig, not the music, not the atmosphere but this rather unsavoury five minutes of arguing.  Ben Folds finished with one of his best, ‘Kate’, before leaving the stage.  It was getting late, we considered staying for the encore but decided it was better to get the train home and left.

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We talked about all that happened on the way home and how it had been an extremely weird night.  We talked mainly about the gig, how the song choices were not great, how the band was not as tight as we would have liked and how Ben Folds himself seemed to be going through the motions.  The thing is though, even through all the griping and all the annoying things we’d been witnesses to, it was still actually a really good night… I suppose we were just expecting a five star night and got a four star one instead, which in the grand scheme of things you can’t really complain about.

A last minute change to the schedule has meant that instead of going into work tomorrow, I actually have the day off.  Finally, a welcome free day with no plans or responsibilities… This initial feeling of joy I had was soon over run by decisions that needed to be made about what I would do with this sudden change in fortune and the free time given to me.

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My thoughts initially took me to the fact that there are a hundred things in my life that just need sorting out.  The majority of them being trivial, joyless tasks that would no doubt fill up the day in a heart beat. Holiday plans, house tidying, sorting out musical folders and leads, valentine anxieties, banking queries, present buying and work scheduling to name but a few. Factor into this that it might be nice to fit in a trip to the gym or the swimming pool, maybe take the dog for a leisurely walk, play a bit of guitar and maybe write some music and pretty soon the once highly sought after free day has turned swiftly into a very busy one.

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The overwhelming nature of all these activities soon made me realize that the older I’ve got the worse I have become about filling up every second of my time with activities to make myself busy and give myself a sense of worth or purpose… The thing is, I can’t remember the last time I just let myself sit around and do nothing.

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This is when I started thinking about how I would really like to spend my day.  What would be a cheap and easy way to just relax? And you know what, as lazy and sad as it makes me sound, I could think of few things better than just hiring out a couple of films and slothing out in front of the TV.  I remember how as a kid, whenever there was a baker day or bank holiday, I’d always buy a packet of sweets, rent a movie and just relax in front of my parents TV. It sounds stupid now, but I have a clear memory of walking to the video store across the road from us as a young lad, renting out Father of the Bride with money that my mum had given me and then just having the best day sitting in front of that TV.

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My real issue now, apart from the price of renting a movie being so expensive is that I can’t spend the day just watching films without feeling guilty. Without that horrible feeling creeping up on me that I should be doing something more productive with my time.  I suppose it seeps into all areas of my life.  The fear that time is slipping away from me.  A fear that makes it hard to relax and just enjoy the view.

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I think back to that kid watching Father of the Bride with seemingly no worries or cares and wonder if it will ever be possible to find that type of contentment as a an adult… (and if I would in fact hire out Father Of the Bride now considering the fact that I’ve become such a raging movie snob as I’ve gotten older!)

Last night I had the pleasure of visiting Newcastle for the night and a reluctance to risk paying for a sleeper train there was no guarantee I would get to sleep on meant I decided to book myself into a hotel.  To be more precise, the cheapest hotel I could find.  After a fair amount of pondering I eventually went for the two star, dive hole in the arm pit of town hotel for just £25 (en suite  and breakfast included!).

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I got into the town at about sixish, the night already upon me and began the 30 minute walk from the station to my hotel.  Having never been to Newcastle before, I was initially surprised by the beauty of it all… this was quickly to change as my walk took me further out of the centre of town and into what looked like one of the more run down areas of the city. I passed a few hotels on my walk, each getting progressively worse in appearance and stature until I eventually came up on my resting place for the night. In all it’s dilapidated, neon glory.

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The phrase, you pay for what you get, was written for this place.  The service was passable, the room small, the walls thin, the bed hard, the locks worrying.  But what did I expect for £25 right?  And I suppose this is my point… You see I always like to write  a review on the hotels website afterwards, giving my honest opinion of  a place.  But I’m struggling with this one… This is because, considering the price, it actually wasn’t too bad.  The room was warm (though I had no control over the heater), the TV worked, the hot water eventually came on and I had four teabags and a kettle to use at my discretion!

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I actually quite enjoyed the squalidness of it all and had no guilt about ordering pizza in and eating it on the bed whilst watching rubbish on TV (my God, SWAT is a bad movie!).  The only time I came close to losing my rag was when I finally settled down to sleep and a faint, distant, monotonous snore could be heard.  It was just loud enough to drive me up the wall for about an hour and yet I had no idea which room it was coming from!  This was when my sunny disposition on the state of the hotel was truly tested.  However, in the cold light of day, is it really there fault that I couldn’t sleep because some one was snoring there socks off?

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Overall, I suppose what I’m asking is, do you review something purely on the expectations you had when you went into the place, on it’s own merits if you will  (this place would have been a 3 and a half out of five) or do you review it in comparison with all the other hotels in the world (a generous 1 and a half stars maybe)?

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I really should stop procrastinating with this blog and get back writing the review…