Our Dah and an old mate Dave Pearce came up to see us a bit ago and it was the best weekend I’ve had for a long while. It’s not right that you have to fit seeing your mates in such a small window of money and time off restrictions, though they might say otherwise. Darren’s Friday 2am arrival left me ’slightly tired’ for work the next day after catching up for a ‘while’, and since he told me at 8pm that night he was avoiding the morning traffic and coming up early, the haggling with Jamal left me with a ‘do what you think is fit’ conscience card and an agreed upon 10am start. Overnight some bastard had the office relocated to the bow of a fishing trawler, but thankfully if nothing else it was unusually quiet. Andy was surprised to see me in full stop as I think Jamal didn’t actually expect me in, but I could have misheard. As for my vision, after trying to read e-mails all morning in a hungover state I’m guessing that dyslexia is a bit like ecstasy without the wanting to hug everything…
After two hours of watching sentences on a flatscreen shag eachother silly I was a free man for the weekend and I got home to find that Our Dah appeciated his lie-in all the more for me having to get out of bed. He’s a nice lad but can be an annoying ponce, especially when you have a mashed head. Ten minutes of his theatrical ‘oh no you dooooon’t’ as I try to roll back into bed, reminding me of made-up shit from down South about having to get up while I didn’t rahrahrah and it was time to pick up Dave from the train station after his trip over from Nottingham.
Dave, or ‘Drac’ as he was then (due to teeth that with age and less imagination have lost their vampirical edge) and I have not seen each other for the best part of 20 years. He still had the same amount of hair (which is far more than can be said for me), though in fairness a massive pile of it had slipped onto his chin. It’s funny how time makes you wider but doesn’t change that bond with old friends, and for me it was great to be sat with two friends who knew so much about me, but different bits…and Phat Ant was yet to come. It was time to start sorting the evenings out, and knowing that Dave has a rich rock n’roll heritage (his band can be found here, clicky clicky) I thought it may be fair if we have a night at my favourite gig shack the Brudenell, after a nice meal at a Tone-recommended Red Chilli at the bottom end of Leeds. I suppose if I was to review it it’s the best Chinese in Leeds, and with four of you eating you can steal a bit of everything which makes it even better, so Tone: another gold star for Potato Boy.
The Brudenell was a top night out, by coincidence Dave had played there previously and knew the sound guy, who was; the best band of the night by general consensus (that ol’ fooker who knows everything and nothing), was the uke-rock acoustic happy-catchy jive boys Killing Fields of Ontario. The night kicked off with a two piece who looked all of twelve called Alt Track, and despite the upturned noses from my peers I really liked them. They’re young, got a bit of Lydon-Leftfield in them and it’s not easy to do politics without being condescending especially at 12, so fair play. It was mentioned (Our Dah I think) that they had a bit too much going on bouncing from style-to-style mid-track which I agreed with but they reminded me of Senser from back in the day. Arthur Rigby and the Baskervilles were for me like a stage school Smiths, not really my mug o’wesh but the General liked ‘em. For me, you can write big words down all you like but I get unnerved when I hear them being sung, especially with such marvellous clarity. Especially when I am very pissed, which is maybe why I cant remember much of the last act Yonderboy. They were alright but I’m sure there are plenty of bands just like them, I just don’t get out enough.
Saturday night saw us at the O2 Academy in Leeds; we went out late, and stayed out late, and Leeds is the kind of place to do it in. The Academy was about as good a compromise between rock and minimal techno as we were going to find, and it allowed me to bounce around looking at lasers without straying too far, which given my last episode when Anna and Lisa were in town is no bad thing.
My head has just about freed itself of a Drac-delivered tune and having stripped his i-pod bare I now have a fine rock catalogue old and new, but the official ‘only tune in the world’ for a full 4 days was ‘Roscoe’ by Midlake. When payday comes I think I’m going to upgrade this blog and whack it on a Teenage Kicks type autoplay back to back.
Have a listen, see what you think – and while you are at it watch some big shit being built.
