Twickenham Treats

On Friday night a couple of mates and I went out for a few drinks in Twickenham. With the whole town being geared towards rugby, The Red Lion is one of Twickenham's only live music venues. It's an unpretentious but lively place. The drinks are fairly cheap and the locals are surprisingly chatty.

The pub is laid out in an L shape and the stage sits in the recess of a corner. There's not a great deal of space but enough to ram in a load of sweaty fans. The band we stumbled upon were pure comedy. As soon as I saw them I thought of Simpsons cartoons. This is more or less what they looked like:


Another happy edition to this spectacle was the band's bame: Four Wheel Drive. What's not to love about that? Jeremy Clarkson would cream his pants at the thought. A four wheel drive wagon roving around full of half naked wannabe rock stars. Nice.

As I stood in the audience I cast my eyes around and noticed that in my black leather jacket, short skirt and boots combo I had inadvertently merged with the substancial fan base. They were loving the music, not shy and getting really getting stuck in. Many of them were wearing black t-shirts with the band's logo splashed across them in massive letters. Later, in the pub garden, these geriatic rockers revealed their various links with the band. They were all uncles, aunts and cousins showing great pride and support. It was heart-warming to see.

Seriously though, this band were doing the old-school rock thing and putting on a spirited show with absolutely no pedals or effects. Unusually the front man was on the bass. He was the only one who remained clothed throughout but you got the impression it was because of his wee belly that he probably felt self-concious about. The lead guitarist was wearing some rather fetching leopard print leggings which set off his massive frizzy barnet nicely. At one point two band members climbed on the amps and played from there. Real Simpsons style behaviour. I reckon the drummer was the most talented and energetic member of the band. He was going for it, pounding away like there was no tomorrow.

Verdict: Great entertainment but there's nothing cool or cutting edge about this band.

The ENEMY

It's LOVE, LOVE, LOVE, LOVE, LOVE. Can't stop listening to this band....

The Windmill

I've found another little indie hangout serving up quality music within its grotty stained walls. This place is called The Windmill and can be found about a 15 minute walk from Brixton station up Brixton Hill.

On your first visit you'll find yourself asking an obliging local for directions due to the obscure location of the place, down a quiet residential street. It's an odd looking place daubed in nasty, bright coloured murals with a menacing slobbery mad looking hound standing centry on the roof. (Having visited the place the logo on their website makes sense.)

The building itself is a run down, clapboard clad piece of nasty 80s architecture not disimilar to the Jockey in channel 4's Shameless. Outside is a walled smoking area with a couple of pub benches but don't make the same mistake I did; it doesn't stop there - through the back door is another garden and a wicked little shed room where you might steal a cheeky smoke.

Like all the best music venues in London this place is cavernous and atmospheric with back to back posters on the walls and band stickers on the loo doors. Actually the loo doors are a blog entry themselves as they've proved to be hugely entertaining with epic scrawling discussions (I'm on a date with a complete fuckwit - should I a- get fucked and try and ride this thing out or b - do a runner, c- politely explain that I have a dodgy tummy? Answers below....) Or another classic scrawl simply said "Alive - only just". I don't reckon the back of the loo door is the best place to promote your band though - might seem a bit sordid.

The sort of people at this gaff are quietly in the know. Not your regular Brixton types - they look like they may have strayed from Hoxton, although I'd say that they have less of that Horrors English indie look and a bit more of the Seattle check shirt influence. Or maybe I'm just speculating and talking shit? Maybe it's just because Merge's new indie signing Telekinesis (who hail from Seattle) were billed to play. Additionally I met two perky septics in the toilets who seemed like the sort of characters an actress like Zoey Deschanel would play. God, I'm really rambling now....

All you need to know is that this is a wicked little place to hole up on a weekend day when the venue hosts at least eight to ten bands. Even Friday nights you'll get your four pounds worth with at least four well-sourced bands taking to the stage. Get thee down there (just don't get mugged on your way).

The Big Pink - Velvet

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OA3twi3iSNQ

The Thames Festival and a beach rave up

Yesterday I spent some good times along the river on Southbank at the Thames Festival. This was a free cultural event with live music and other artsy bits and pieces.

For me, the highlight of this festival was undoubtedly The Dukesbox and the beach party. The Dukesbox is a novel little band of travelling musicians who sit in a caravan styled like a juke box and play any tune you ask of them simply by putting your money in the slot. It's a fantastic idea and the band drew a big crowd. They are a talented bunch of lads; capable of remembering thousands of tracks. We had a great time bopping around to them.

The night ended with a mad rave up on beach at about midnight. Now beach rave ups aren't common in London. Firstly where the hell is the beach??? In actual fact at low tide there is a wide beach below the walls near to the London eye. Here some enterprizing types had set up their decks and a wicked sound system. A diverse crowd were grinding closely whilste trying not to stumble over in the sand.

There was a euphoric buzz among the crowd. A lot of drugs were being got through and satellite groups of dodgy looking characters were hanging around with fierce looking dogs on the end of leads. Generally there was a feeling of goodwill amongst the dancers although laced through the energy of the party was a heady concoction of latent sexual tension and violence. We were dancing like there would be no end; it was one of the last warm evenings of the dying summer and we were damn well going to get the best out of it...until the police came to break us all up at around 5am.

An apology.....

Any of you performers out there, I've got an apology for you...

When I'm at gigs I tend to be a) very over-excited and b) more than likely tanked up. This is not a great combination to be greeted with if you are in the zone and psyching yourself up for going onstage. The last thing you will want is me bounding up to you and quizzing you or launching into a diatribe about dramatics behind the journey to the gig. Equally, if you are reeling as you come down from your performance buzz you probably won't want me in your face either!

Example of my ill-judged chitter chatter:

Me: Danny! Danny! (Earnest - if he doesn't hear me we may never make contact with there being no mobile phone signal)

D: (Looking a bit shell shocked after playing to massive Glasto crowd.) Oh hi Jude. Glad you made it.

Me: How did it go? How was the audience? Did you get a good vibe up there? What was the sound like? You didn't get a sound check did you?

D: (Completely taken aback) Well, I'm just feeling a bit numb right now.

Cue drivelling apologies from me. Danny makes his excuses and leaves - fair play!

SORRY GUYS. Will try to calm self down in future and not bombard you with eager-beaver questions and puppy-like over enthusiasm!

Jude x

This week I have been mostly listening to....

Kasabian, The Maccabees and The Enemy.