Woodcat is an accidental stalker...

So on Monday (?), yes, Monday, I sent an email to the people behind a blog that I'd happened across. This is not really something I'd generally do, as I'm under the impression that people blog self consciously for the first few weeks they do it, in case anyone reads it, then they realise that it's freakin rare for anyone to read your blog, and even when they do, they don't care what you say, who you are, why you say it, blah blah blah... See, no one's reading this, so no one cares if I say any of this... blah blah blah. The only times this changes slightly is in very specific instances. Blogs about music. Blogs about gigs, which are really a subcategory of those about music. Blogs by musicians, again, a subcategory of those about music. Blogs about films. Blogs about food. Seriously, if you can't eat it, watch it or listen to it, it's most likely that nobody cares. But, I digress. As I mentioned, I contacted the authors of a blog. The blog in question was, unsurprisingly, a music blog, and I'd just spent about 20 minutes listening to previously completely unknown to me, yet completely ace, songs courtesy of this, and combined with the title of the blog curiously reminding me of an incident a couple of weeks ago, I sent a brief note of slightly stalkery thanks, as below:

I thought I'd send you a weird email...
Because I happened across your blog this evening. Having caught my eye because of the most recent title - oddly reminded me of dancing and giddiness in ____ a week or so ago - I played all the random songs I've never heard of, and wanted to say thanks! Thus, here is a weird little stalkery type email, with words to that effect...

Anyway, I duly got a reply back, and the reply seemed a little self effacing, and selfconscious, which is exactly the response I expected, if I indeed expected a reply at all. And that should have been the end of the matter. However, the author of the response asked a question, about the location of the dancing and giddiness. So I replied, and he replied, asking more questions, and now there is the most ridiculously 51 email long email thread in my inbox, and, perhaps curiously, it turns out that he is the random boy I was dancing with briefly a couple of weeks ago. And seems very nice, and as originally suspected, young. Stalker was turned stalked part way through the week, when he added the Woodcat on facebook, and she found out he was born in 1985! Which makes her feel a little old... And so, the Woodcat is an accidental email stalker. Oh dear...

In other news, this week has been mostly quiet, although I did skip along to Emmy the Great on Tuesday, at The Ruby Lounge, which was ace. I'd expand, but there's not so much to expand on. I could wax lyrical about her lightly tripping whimsical lyrics sung in, by turns, mournful and joyful form, or the amazing perfection of the performance that lacked a bum note, a false start, or an unbalanced element with regard to the levels of the sound quality. But I'm not a gig reviewer, I didn't take a note of the set list, and half way through I was ruing that it was so good, because if she had been any less I could've taken my sleepy self home to bed. I can tell you that highlights for me included The Easter Parade, which (I think? Or was it Absentee first? No, I think it was The Easter Parade first... See, I'd be no good doing this properly) was the opening song, as well as Absentee, MIA, 24, Dylan, and of course, First Love. Needless to say, if you get the chance to go, Emmy the Great is not someone to be missed as she flits through your town. In short, and using the worse phrasing possible, Emmy was Great.

Also, I'm so happy that i'm not the only petty little grump in the world... Passively agressively of course... Looksee!!!

So I did not win a ukulele

Tonight was predominantly about ukuleles. I saw the best ukulele rock opera I've ever seen, courtesy of Sparky Deathcap, as well as a beautiful set by Kathryn Edwards, who I've never heard of and I'm keen to hear more, her vocals are delicately haunting, plus any one who can play an accordian is awesome in my book, and a fairly entertaining song about beards from Jam on Bread. I did not, alas, see Jeremy Warmsley, as I left early. I'm having one of my don't touch me or I will punch you in the face episodes, and the boys Paddington and Corky did not seem able to maintain a sensible distance, or refrain from talking to me and just talk to themselves instead. Maybe I'm overly tired, or maybe it's just that they've had five or six pints and I'm woefully sober. But I have to be up early anyways, and violence is not generally considered to be a valid answer, so I thought to leave. Also, Meursault were doing little by way of being entertaining, a surprise since what I'd heard on recordings sounded promising. Live, not so good. Shame.

The definitive Woodcat

Using only quotes from Ulysses, I define myself thus:

- When I makes tea I makes tea, as old mother Grogan said. And when I makes water I makes water.

- Ask nothing more of me, sweet. All I can give you I give.

I have a little red motor car...

Yes, yes I do. This car was actually the cause of a little strife last summer, and the loss of a friend. Don't get me wrong. No body died. But there were misunderstandings and weirdness, and now the Catflap thinks I fancy him, and is weird about things and stuff. None of this, however, means I love my little car any the less. My little red car is excellent, and I drove it for the first time yesterday. My dad has been mending the bits and bobs that were wrong with it, and yesterday I washed my car, and took it home where it lives with me. MINE. All mine. Already it is making me want to acquire a new ipod, for plugging into the stereo for long car journeys... But in the meantime, I am thinking mixtapes!!!

And we started something on the dance floor...

Having not really seen Chiquita properly for ages, we decided that Friday we would hang out, but in a go out to town and have the eats kind of way. The original plan was to head to Wagamamas and eat lovely food, and drink saki, because saki is nice, and because it makes you feel drunker than you are, b ut doesn't seem to hurt in the morning. By the time we were half way there though, we were hungry. And outside Tampopo in Albert Square. So in we went, and pondered the menu. I opted for the seafood Yaki Udon with a glass of the house white, and Chiquita picked the chicken Pad Thai, also with the house white. I love eating noodles with chops sticks. Mostly because I am terrible at eating with chop sticks. Absolutely appalling. And I find it hilarious, mostly because I look around and find that no one else can either. I always think that messy food you have to eat with chop sticks is good date food, because you have no option but to be yourself, given the likelihood that most of your dinner will end up on your chin. Tampopo was really nice, despite lacking saki, but I think that Wagamamas has the edge, and I'll have to plan a visit soon.

After Tampopo we wandered into a bar like a club, and ran away super quick, then wandered into a club like a bar, where we stayed for a while and chattedy chatted to Corky, and Panda Ross and Panda Dom. I got myself a little bit drunkardly, and myself and Corky started talking most randomly about the fact that we'd like to put on a club night. And I would like to, but I recognise that I am lazy and unmotivated. And if such a plan came off it would be down to Corky's dynamism prior to my own. After maybe an hour, we turned around, and suddenly the empty club had acquired people. I don't know where they came from, but presumably through the door. The quiet seep of people continued for some time, and then suddenly, a really good song came on. I wish I could tell you what it was, but I was drunk, and and I forget. Anyhoo, Corky and I decided to start the dancing. Because no one hits an empty dance floor. But we do. And it was infectious. soon enough, we left the danceful nicely packed, and sat back down with Chiquita, and watched red cardigan man dance. Go red cardigan man go. He was incredible. Possibly terrible, possibly not. But doing his own thing, red cardigan man cared not a bean for anything else. And that is so cool.

Chiquita and Woodcat left quite early, and Woodcat may have accidentally volunteered the spare room out for tonight... Awesome evening. I will be going to Panda again

Ukuleles and telephones

Today seems to be have been a day for pissing around on the interweb, and making anonymous new acquaintances. I've just had one of those weird telephone conversations with someone I've never met, yet have excessive amounts of nothing to talk about with. Essentially, the Woodcat is being a nice person, and offering to litter a club with flyers for a gig for the guy who is putting on the gig. Obviously, this is an entirely selfish aim, as I want all these small promoters to keep putting on the gigs that I'm too lazy to look into arranging myself, but recognise that they need help sometimes with flyering, and telling what last.fm is, and so on. So anyway, I called this chap to arrange the acquisition of said flyers, and must have been talking for a good forty minutes about, well, nothing really. I like such conversations, they remind me that the world is full of nice open friendly people after all.

Incidentally, if anyone's in Manchester on Sunday,The MIGHTY UKULELE FESTIVAL starring JEREMY WARMSLEY & MEURSAULT looks to be really fun!!! Obviously there's Jeremy Warmsley, and Meursault, and cakes, and the potential for winning a ukulele, and Sparky Deathcap, and some other fols on the side. All in all, pure WIN.

Woodcat, face burn and a bowl of chilli

I swear, the kitchen at my work is jinxed. Carlos accidentally threw his lunch on the floor today. And luckily it was cold. Not so lucky was the Woodcat, yesterday, when she accidentally threw a boiling bowl of chilli on the floor, which splattered EVERYWHERE. Seriously. The floor. The fridge. The water cooler. The walls. And the Woodcat. Boots? Check. Skirt? Check. Top? Check. Cardigan? Check. Hair? Check? Face? Alas, check. Some of the lovely people at my office rallied round and started cleqaning it up for me, while I dealt with the head-to-toeness of the chilli, and discovered the lovely cheek burn I'm currently sporting. Thankfully it's not too bad, but it does look a bit gross, and I've got a lovely yellow scab right on my check bone. The Woodcat's looking right purdy. On the bright side, the chilli fell right side up, and there was enough left for lunch!

Right now I'm playing the mix tape, well, cd, that Corky made for me. Much Brazilian giddiness and all kinds of fun.

pieces of us were left on the tracks...

For my birthday, Corky gave me a mixtape. On a CD. How very modern and new fangled. He also gave me a summer beneath the trees. I'm just getting around to playing it now, and ruing not having done sooner. Even if I hadn't heard about the addition of Peter Broderick to the mix, there is an unmistakably distinctive note of his influence in this magnificent, yet gently undulating collection of lovely, and really the only thing I can think to make this album in anyway better will be to play it again when the washing machine isn't on.

Wow. Wow. Wow. Wow. Wow.

This is so much better than my idea for bacon baked alaska.

http://superpunch.blogspot.com/2008/10/cheeseburger-donut-bacon-covered-donut.html

Underachieving Pandas

Last night was excellent fun, there was dancing and dancing and the giddy. I went with Corky and Christina to the Saki bar, where Underachievers and Panda Panda were putting on a joint night. I've never been to either club night, but the music coming from Panda Panda was significantly better, and I am thinking there must be attendance in the future, and shapes thrown on that there dance floor and whatnot. There was perving at pretties, and dancing with boys who were flagrantly too young. One in particular, who was sufficiently crazy enough to introduce himself, despite my flailing limbs and rhythmless form. He seemed like a nice chap, and, I'd say, attractive as it goes, but he couldn't have been more than 24. I find it disconcerting that the only boys who chat me up actually are, well, boys!

I accidentally ingested a couple of vodka tonics, which goes against the no drinking plan. But, I can't say I feel as bad as could be expected, and certainly not as bad as Corky. I seem to have agreed to help compile the ultimate play list of all time... Think I'd better get my listening habits up to date!

I already loved the music of this man

But now I think I love him too!!! Seriously. Watch these at your peril, for I think you will also fall under the spell...

http://vimeo.com/1255971

http://vimeo.com/1266520

http://vimeo.com/1256012

Saturday

It's Saturday, YAY!!! I've not been out for a while, due to that unfortunate consumer necessity, the monies, but tonight I believe there will be dancing and foolishness and a general good time all round. Excellent...

Inexplicable joy and shiny pink hearts...

Town was beautiful this evening. Well, it wasn't. It never is. But there are some days where joy seems to permeate everything, to shine from every corner of existence, and on days like that the little things are everything. A woman's face breaking into a smile as she meets her friend. A boy seated on his father's shoulders as a family walk down the street. Shiny pink hearts blu-tacked to the window of a chip shop as you sail past on the bus. On days like this, life is wonderful.

The long drift goodbye

May? Gosh darn, it's been a long time, and it's been a busy year so far. So, an annotated version, if you will, to bring this up to speed and maybe, then maybe, I'll remember to keep up to date in the future... Maybe.
So, where to begin. I guess maybe where I left off, or possibly a little before. Around the end of March I made friends with Corky, and there was drinking and gubbins and whatnot, and this, in turn, instigated the initial conversing with random gig boy who was working in once of the bars we drank dry. Then there was the Efterklang gig, at which there was more conversations, and then I went on a date with another boy who turned out to be absurdly young (about 23) and then there was some time in London, and then there was the week with Boris, Phosphorescent and Ulrich Schnauss, all in one week. Incidentally, Ulrich Schnauss was supported by a band called Airiel. Airiel are awesome, because they sound like... well, they sound like if the Pet Shop Boys made shoegaze. As I think I have, or will, mention before, briefly. Also occuring at the Ulrich Schnauss gig was an invitation from random gig boy to the Woodcat to go to lunch on the Saturday. Lunch was... nice. Random gig boy is sweet. But the impression was quickly gained that the random gig boy liked the woodcat more than the woodcat liked the random gig boy. And the woodcat is a scaredy cat. And because it's only a an impression, the woodcat can run away, and pretend it doesn't exist. And leave any misunderstandings to the long drift goodbye... Bad woodcat.

In a day or so's time, all will be revealed

And no doubt, all begin to make a little more sense. I'm rubbish at remembering to write things as and when they occur, but hopefully by bringing this rambling mess up to date I'll remember to review things and update the randomness that is this cat's life at slightly more frequent, and more regular, intervals.
Tonight I'm off to see Bobby Digital and Rza at Academy 2, and part of me's looking forward to going, because it will be awesome, and the other half of me is wishing I could just go to bed right now, because I have got a cold and feel a bit pants. But anyway, that is the excuse I'm giving for all the empty post headings. I've put them in, so I'll remember to write them, but I don't have time now. Or something. Probably more likely to remind me what I wanted to write about...

If the Pet Shop Boys made shoegaze...

Never, ever, set yourself the task of backtracking a blog. If you don't write about them at the time, chances are, you will not go back and complete the other entries, and then you just end up with a load of hanging titles, that frustrate you and make you feel unable to create new entries until they are done. Or you could delete the titles...
I deleted some, others I feel I should document, so as not to be a complete cheat. So here I am. Tuesday 16th September, months down the line. I should be blogging about the Bon Iver gig from the night before, but instead, here thinking I ought to describe going to see Ulrich Schnauss back in April. Well, Ulrich Schnauss was awesome. But possibly the best part of the evening was Airiel, the support band. Not that I'm saying I like Airiel, to listen to. But I like the idea of anything that sounds like Pet Shop Boys making shoegaze. Truly, truly awesome. And that's it, really. Hence the perils of the retrospective blog, you forget the details. Sorry.

Efterklang

Efterklang. At the Ruby Lounge on 1st April, with support from Nancy Elizabeth, and Our Broken Garden.This was just after I became properly acquainted with my friend Corky and so he came to the gig with me and Paddington. Ever since I saw Efterklang play the Roadhouse in November, they've become one of my absolute favourite bands to see live. There is such an energy in their live performances, with much spontaneity and ad hoc improvisation, and yet a perfect cohesiveness between the band. No mean feat for a 10 strong live band.
Surprisingly, they put Our Broken Garden on before Nancy Elizabeth. Our Broken Garden is Anna Brønsted, part of the Efterklang collective, and her set was really beautiful, followed by the comparatively coarse Nancy Elizabeth who played for far too long, and her speaking voice too often overpowered her singing voice. I'm curious as to why she has a good reputation. Maybe because she plays a harp, and aspires to a type. The harp featured infrequently, however, and her performance lacked any real substance, and I was bored. Boring ideas poorly executed.
That was a surreal night. Efterklang were 9, rather than 10, strong, because English customs and excise are imbeciles and for some reason wouldn't let Peter Broderick into the country. Which put a dampener on the whole night, but Efterklang were amazing nonetheless. We saw the offended parties (Woodcat offended them) and they spoke to us (well, me) a little coldly. Which worried Paddington and me not a jot. Corky doesn't know the offended parties too well, so wasn't aware of this change in their disposition. We saw gig ticket boy, and found out his name. We got various bits of memorabilia between us. We had a good ish sort of evening. We left. Corky and I ran down the road pretending to be aeroplanes (I do silly things when I'm tired), and we persuaded gig ticket boy to briefly do the same. Weirdo.

Knitted Icons, Orca Whales and Pitted Fleas

Ah, such a long time ago. It was perhaps a poor decision to decide to backdate all these things. But the memory is still clear. Ish. So I'll give it a go.

This dates back to Monday 12th March, and a fantastic gig at the Fleapit, near Bethnall Green. Greg (Haines) was the headline of the evening, with support in the form of Danny (Saul) and some chap called Jasper TX (I believe he's called Dag something?), and having previously spent much time in the pub with Greg and Danny but not having heard Greg play I thought I'd take the opportunity, as well as being rather keen to see Jasper TX. So the decision was made, and my comrades (the lovely Giuls and Hez) willing, off we three trotted to the Fleapit, in deepest darkest East London.

Not knowing London so well, Giuls came to my aid and arranged to meet me enroute, which was fantastic, and meant for big old girly chats and loveliness, and also meant that we didn't get too lost in the confusion of night time darkness and East London unfamiliarity. Hez was running a little late, but met us in the Fleapit, a nice dank little bar on Columbia Road, looking absolutely gorgeous as can be, and promptly presented me with, and I have to say it, possibly the best birthday present of the year. A book of patterns to make knitted Icon dolls. Bowie, Audrey, Marylin, Madonna, Gandhi(?), all there in glorious knit purl technicolor. This was also the first time Giuls and Hez had met properly, and thankfully they got on like a house on fire. They truly are two of my favourite people EVER, so I'm glad they get along.

Anyway... On with the show. I should maybe mention, whilst I've been on friendly terms with Danny and Greg previously, by this stage I'd succeeded in offended them quite a bit, so we are no longer friends. Still speaking, just no longer friends. Long story. Anyway, the show. Jasper TX was on first, and I was expecting to be absolutely swept away, as I really like his music. But he was just so funny. I'm not sure he meant to be. His head kept doing this crazy nodding thing, and when he started creating the vocals for the loop, he sounded rather like a pained whale. Or something. And all I could think of was that line in that Regina Spektor song about dreaming of orca whales and owls. Highly inappropriate. He made some really lovely music that night, but I have to say,heathen that I am, that to fully appreciate the music of Jasper TX, I much prefer not to be able to see him.

Danny. Danny Saul. I had a crush on Danny Saul a few years ago. I think there's something about ginger men that I really quite like. I also remember seeing him support Marissa Nadler in the Bowling Green in Manchester a few years ago and thinking he was absolutely amazing. And that she was a bit of a control freak perfectionist. Danny used to just play his acoustic guitar, and sing beautiful melodic songs, and in it's simplicity lay, for me at least, it's strength. Nowadays, Danny still plays guitar, and sings beautiful melodic songs, but has found the path of laptops and loops, and creates incredibly intricate, complex loops and layerings, creating a huge amount of depth of sound. And this, unfortunately, is where, for me at least, he has fallen foul in his solo work. There is simply too much. Too many loops. Too many layers. There is no strength any more, and the passion that was there now seems to seep into the cracks, replaced by concentration. For such acoustic loveliness, loops can work, but they must be used with restraint. With care for the overall song, not just for the momentary effect. A good example of this would be the Phosphorescent gig I attended more recently, and will update the details of soon. I sound like I'm being negative about Danny's set. I still enjoy seeing him play, but less than I did before. And my friends, who'd never seen him before, were slightly less than overwhelmed.

And young Mister Haines. Wow. I really have to say it. This gig was but 20days after his 20th birthday, but he has the musical maturity of, well, lets just someone very talented indeed. He played an immense set, looping and layering his cello, and a xylophone he was playing with both a beater, and a bow. I must say, I've never seen anyone play a xylophone with a bow before. But it really worked. It was an immensely beautiful, transcendental experience watching Greg play, especially seeing the transformation from the boy I know to the musician on stage. The whole room was deathly silent aside from this amazing sound created solely by Greg using the xylophone, cello, some well placed crackling from various knobs and buttons, and his own innate sense of musical fullness. And an intuitive knowledge of when less is more. His timing was absolutely flawless, and sounds created overwhelmed and subdued you at the same time, as the noise built and faded away, gently yet almost malignantly drawing you in. Towards the end of the set, Greg signaled to Danny and Jasper TX to join the performance, Jasper on his guitar, and Danny reading the names of the ticket list out and looping them, gently, undulatingly, faintly across the top of the music.

All in all, I'd say it was an amazing gig. And I feel privileged to have been there, in such an intimate environment, to see arguably one of the best musicians of our time play such a beautiful set. And I'm really looking forward to Greg's new album, which I believe is coming out later in the year.

Woodcat is a dirty girl

It's been a while, so over the next couple of days I'll be backdating bloggingness, with tales of gigs, friendships, loves lost, circuses, general slutting about and things that have been pleasing me. But I can't right now. I need a swifter than swift bath, so as I don't stink any more, and then I'm going to see Boris and Growing at the Ruby Lounge. This morning I thought I was going to be going on my lonesome, but I am to be accompanied by the lovely boys Corky and Paddington. Awesome.

Still not asleep...

But I did find this for Chiquita...