October

Pretty month a whole month has gone by in a flash. Well a series of small flashes. And lots of moping. And some gigs. And some sleeping. All of that.

Obviously the start of the month got off to a bad start. I'm pretty sure I blogged that, and I think that adding details would be unnecessary. Suffice to say the incident has been resolved to my satisfaction, and allows me to continue viewing the people I know and mind about as people I know and mind about, instead of getting hung up on their actions. People often say actions speak louder than words. Souls speak louder than both. Looking someone in the eye, irrelevant of what is said, allows for understanding in a way that words and actions never will. And now all is fine and dandy. So kids, if people offend you, or you offend them, man up and speak to each other, as honestly and openly as you can. You don't have to tell them everything. Just talk. Mean what you say, even if you can't say exactly what you mean. Often that can fix everything in a way that time and distance never can.

Enough of that. On with the rest of the month. I went to see Metal Rouge at Kraak on the 7th, which was pretty awesome, and Acid Mothers Temple on the 10th. Acid Mothers was absolutely freaking brilliant, not least because I'm slightly convinced they arrange where they stand on stage based on who looks the most like a wizard. The weekend of the 19th and 20th was the Carefully Planned festival around the Northern Quarter. A few good bands were listed, but I was only really bothered about seeing Warm Widow, and maybe Plank!, on the Saturday, and Big Joan on the Sunday. But line ups change, Warm Widow couldn't play because of a drumming limb injury, and Big Joan moved into a Saturday night spot. I need to take a moment here to say just how good Big Joan are. Seriously AMAZING. Loud and raucous and mental and amazing. Good times were had with beers with lovely people, and eventually ended up with Martin Warm Widow and I colonising Danny's kettle while records were played, fun was had, and members of Big Joan gradually fell asleep to raging death metal at around 4am, followed by me driving Mr Warm Widow home, and getting at least two hours sleep before my Kittencat awoke.

Wednesday 23rd was Mark Eitzel. I'm surprised I was the only person I knew there, but it was one hell of a show. The support band were still on when I got there, they were good if you like that sort of thing, kind of generic folk pop complete with hand knits and a violin. Not really my bag, maybe some one elses. They weren't bad, definitely tuneful and all of that, but not for me. I'd tell you who they were, but I can't remember, and the details will probably be on the Hey! Manchester site around about here. The combination of this, and the overwhelming stench of feet present in Soup Kitchen on that particular evening made me nearly leave without ever hearing Mr Eitzel, but I'm glad I stayed. Few people can transcend the smell of feet, but he just about manages it, aided by my having found a spot where the smell was diluted by the air con. So yes Mark Eitzel, you transcend the smell of feet. What can I say? You are a beautiful, talented man, everybody knows it. And now we know you have the power to overcome evil smells as well with your singing prowess.

Saturday 26th and Sunday 27th was the Mantis festival. I've never managed to get down before, but this time I got to all three concerts, and there was some pretty inspired challenging stuff. The auditory potential of 48 channels is awe inspiring, and some pretty amazing soundscapes and auditory experiences result. I will say that some of the pieces better than others, and I think some of the pieces possibly needed a little more daring. Some I need a better understanding of the underlining concepts of what was intended in order to appreciate how much I like them. Three moments arguably stood out for me, Brona Martin's piece A bit closer to home...... which created a beautiful spacial landscape mirroring ocassional aural narrative beautifully, Pareidolia I by Patrick Dunn and performed by Marij van Gorkom (I think that's the piece I mean, she played about six, I think this was fourth?), and Gavin Osborne's Mechanical Air with a hypergraphic score by Michael Mayhew, this last piece beautifully executed with flute and electronics, and the distortion of the aspect of the planet looking like a human skull pleased me immensely. Or at least it did if I'm remembering the order of this right. I think those visuals and that piece line up - then again, I heard and saw a lot of amazing things this weekend. My friend Danny Saul had a piece (Rise) on the Sunday also, I must confess to having a huge list of questions before I'm going to know exactly how much I liked it. Some pieces meld or challenge you instinctively, and some have a helpful and pithy little description in the programme which you look at a few days later and say "Ah yes, so what I was getting was what they were going for after all", containing as they do one or two emotive rather than music techy words which confuse and bewilder me in terms of aim. I will say the arrangement was awesome. But overall, and this may have been the intention, it left me with a curious sensation of being utterly alone and abstract from my surroundings, from the rest of the world. There was a numbness reminiscent of those times when you walk alone in a crowd, hearing but not hearing, seeing but not seeing, nearly getting run over by something or another because in your absenteeism from the world you saw the car but it didn't occur to you not to cross. Warning sounds barely register, barely penetrate your consciousness. You hear as if underwater, sounds all sounding the same, distances blurring in their indistinguishable one volumed noise. As you can see, I have questions. Because if that was the aim, I fucking loved it, and it would make the stand out list into four, not three. If not, well, there are points that a few tweaks would have changed the entire experience into one that felt absolutely alive and engaged in EVERYTHING.