(This refers more to my lack of those kind of feelings and responses than anything to do with the incident(s) in question. But I'll get to that (those? whatever) later.)
Wow! Sunday was one hell of a day at Sounds From the Other City. I missed Stroke Cats, and their lovely songs about nose picking, so the first act on the bill for me was Irma Vep and Douga at the Salford Arms. Lots and lots of fun, awesome set, cheers to the lovely Hollanthropist for coming with, gossipping about Infected Mushroom and other bands on the way, and recommending my first beer! From there we raced across to Islington Mill to catch Adrian Crowley, who was rather fabulous, and I thoroughly enjoyed seeing him play. After that I waltzed back to the Salford Arms to catch a little bit of Cosmic Dead and Karl Astbury, which was good and noisy, but a bit samey after a time, so dodged into the United Reform Church to catch a little bit of Sacred Paws. I stand by my original assertion of somekind of riot girl/punky/5,6,7,8's thing all mixed up with Fleetfoxes, though I will say that this is a tad too simplistic. A two piece, the sound they produce is incredibly full, though possibly the songs sounding very samey is down to the limitation of the two piece set up, or simply a newness thing. I think they have a great sound, but as yet, not much variety in that. So I left, and bumped into Richard Knox on the steps outside the church and he gave me a chip. They were awesome chips. So I acquired me a bag also, and sat on the steps and talked the hind leg off Rich and his friend because... well because in an attempt to control my cold I'd raided my medicine cupboard, but the only pseudo based cold meds I could find expired years ago. I took it anyway, then picked up some new on the way. But I was whacked out on the old ones, and unable to have to good effects of the new ones for fear of the old overdose, so apologies. I was a bit chatty. I'd like to think in a good way, but I'd only be kidding myself. But yeah, chips were had, pretty sure I didn't offend anyone, and Rich and I had a lovely chat about lots of things and stuff on the way back to The Angel for Die Hexen. What a lovely chap.
Die Hexen, on the other hand, is not a lovely chap. Die Hexen is very definitely a lady. A very theatrical lady, with a mesh mask over her eyes reminiscient of Pris Bladerunner make up, and some gauzy wing style fabric. It was a fun set, though standing by the hot food counter in The Angel was possibly not the best idea. Hotter than a hot thing. After Die Hexen, it was a run, yet again, back to The Salford Arms for McLean/Nichols/Quimby. That was an absolutely awesome set, and bumped into Danny Saul outside, along with his friend Martin, who I've mostly been listening to this week under the guise of Warm Widow, and his friend Andy who suffered much of my conversation for the rest of the day. Still whacked out on the out of date pseudo, I may have been somewhat effusive in my outburst of appreciation of Warm Widow. Thankfully twas taken as meant, Martin really is a lovely chap. And ginger. All the loveliest people are ginger. After McLean/Nichols/Quimby, there was a break where folks got fed and refreshed and all of that prior to Queer'd Science. I got talking at ten million to the dozen to a girl called Rachel, who I neglected to get a second name for, but she's an artist, and does drawing for things, and we got talking about the artists at the mill, and that she knows someone who does what I want to do with renting kiln space at the mill. So in a couple of months, once I have me a little work space set up, Woodcat will be playing with clay again. SO EXCITED!!!
Queer'd Science. OOOFF!!! Fantastic. Seriously awesome. And so few women can sing like that well. Yes, that was bloody brilliant. I said thank you to you at some point when I was roaming around Islington Mill, but I'll say it again now, that was awesome, thank you for the death metally screaming. It was a blast. At Queer'd Science I spoke to Irma Vep guy, who was also quite pleased to note his set had gone down well. I was down with the dancing for a while, but after being body slammed and foot trodden on by a guy who must of been at least sixteen stone three times in a row, I once again retreated to the safe spot that was the hot plate. Also, by this point the good pseudo had kicked in so I was feeling sharper than a bag of bees bottoms, and not at all whacked out, at least not in a bad way.
I did a bit of checking out where folks were headed next, I decided on Islington Mill for Denis Jones. Danny was going there, but on not getting the friendliest of friendlies from those quarters, I decided not to tag along there, and made my own way across. On the way I pavement danced to some lovely swingy music in the street with a random man called Stuart who gave me a Volkov Commander necklace, then bumped into Philly Phill, we dumped my coat in my car, and watched Denis Jones! Sweet. Phill said because he often sees Denis play for free he forgets quite how good he is. That set definitely acted as a reminder. It was blooming brilliant. There were a few things going on at a few places after that, I opted to stay at the Mill for Daedelus, which was great. (Phew, this is turning into a long post. But it was a long day!)
Eventually everyone seemed to show up at the Mill, and there was much merriment in the Chat Roulette disco with Corky and Timbretone and Nuclear and Panda Dom and Philly Phill and lots of others. Andy and Martin Warm Widow and Rich Knox and Elaine Reynolds and lots of sexy people everywhere, for lots of bumping into and gossipping. I'm very open to the world right now, so I may have too much informationed EVERYONE about my current set up life wise, but they all took it in good humour. I got hit on three times, but I'm taking it as a previously observed phenomenon I like to call "everyone gets less choosy after midnight". It's something I used to see happening in clubs in Exeter, boys I knew would flirt with the girls they fancied, then, getting nowhere by midnight, would move onto the less attractive friend. Man, I sound so down on myself! But seriously, I was out in a black baggy tee shirt, cardi, jeans and shoes that look like orthopaedic monstrosities (I love those shoes), and I wasn't giving anyone even a hint of an eye. But yeah, random curly haired chap who lived near Sankeys, you were pretty and weird. Red tee shirt arse grabbing man, you were weirder. But I ran away successfully from you two, and danced with Danny's mate Andy, who is a sweet boy mostly, though by no means entirely, because he says that at 32 we are classified as "young old". There was a point in the evening where he tried it on, though once again I am attributing that to the afore mentioned phenomenon "less choosy after midnight", and I thought I explained quite well my current lack of urges, desires and general openness to friends but little else. It seems I did a poor job, as when I gave him a lift home at the end of the night, he kissed me, and not wanting to create a weird situation, and since I am currently again feeling the mantra "try it, you might like it", I went with it for a minute. He seems very nice, and it was a good kiss, but I still lack those things, and so it was kind of like watching my body kissing someone, and not being able to feel what was going on. That sounds really insulting. I don't mean it that way. He's a pretty boy. If I was on it, I'd probably totally have been there. But I'm not. Hopefully I'll see him around though, I'd like us to be friends because he's quite fun and interesting and all of that jazz. I went home, and had a lovely cuddle with Kittencat, and then when she woke up Cattenberg manned the decks for a few hours so I could get a couple of extra hours sleep, as one wasn't really cutting it. All in all, a madly fun day!
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