Just listening to the ever-green Exile in Guyville by Liz Phair and it brought back a flood of memories. A couple of them are none too pleasant: partcularly clear in my mind is the fact that “Mesmerizing” is the song that was playing when I crashed my car back in 1999. It wasn’t too serious, but it wasn’t minor either. I suppose it was just the icing on the cake of the crappy year for Mr. Wilson that was 1999. I’m having a much better time now, thanks very much for asking.

Speaking of memories, it came up in conversation last night that because I have a generally contented life right now, at least it means I won’t be drinking to excess; to forget. Thing is, I don’t need to drink to forget. I’m very good at forgetting without any outside help. I have a memory that would make a sieve look like a, um, well, a thing without holes anyway.

Ever since shooting this week’s Photo Friday entry I’ve had the brain-rotting tune of “The Final Countdown” by Europe in my head.

Hee hee! Now you’ve got it too…

Enough said.

Went with K to see Lou Rhodes (ex Lamb) last night and a) It was lovely and b) I’m well knackered. It was natural that the two Lamb songs she did went down the best, but the new material was good, if a bit on the sunny side. We were as one that she is just too bloody happy at the moment and she needs some of the edge to her songs that can only come from a bit of a crappy personal life :->

A top night it was last night, playing poker with the footy blokes. Up to our usual standard in all respects: a two-kebab occasion, no less. Hurty head in the morning, but that’s par for the course. Excellent hosting from Dino, and a truly effete forfeit drink for the late antes and bum deals: Creme de Framboise. Ick.

One of us has to remember an iPod and a cable next time, though. We had just the one CD on repeat all goddam night, and if I ever hear “Mi Tierra” by Gloria Estefan again it will be too soon.

Who could stand the pace and who couldn’t? You decide…

“Sï¿½ seï¿½or, sï¿½ seï¿½or, es mi son…”

Start Slide Show with PicLens Lite

I’ve always wondered, my French not being up to much, what Saian Supa Crew were actually on about. I mean, I love their music, but as for meaning I have no clue. They could be singing about world-conquering animated toasters for all I know. So for a wheeze I found the lyrics to their biggest hit, Raz de Maree, and bunged it through the Babelfish automatic translator.

SLY: Vamos has the playa, under the sunlight lamps of Saa.an Supa
With Sly de Bahia as with the buddah, exposure hot like Aaliyah
Ooh! aloa leaves your Himalayas, UV raid, A ‘ is has it there,
Sunstroke furia, ground-para necessary has.
Blade skin without pilpa pile hair, fire!

VICELOW: You can shout alleloua.a, if L ‘ Saa.an dies, but one will die
When Carlos runs or when y ‘ has a hurricane
In Europe, not D ‘ hurrah or D ‘ HIPPI hurrah, the flow is it,
Length like a boa, strikes cheek the balboa,
Athlatique like Bilbao, faeric like Bora Bora
Mystic such David Bowie, Vicelow, rapid like the wind,
Only while raising me I sleep
Ignoramuses like an evil of belly.

REFRAIN: Saa.an Supa clutches the mic without never drowning,
Rapid like the wind, carrying the hearts enflammaes,
A such flame the cyclone dacime the mass D ‘ starved,
Dasormais on the beach, C ‘ is the strong current D ‘ marae ((a))

LEEROY & SAMUEL: It is the strong current of marae,
On the microphone, ramane a bouae
Entraa.ne tous.les.jours, every month, if one needs any L ‘ annae
Sound servant boy, you can T ‘ marrer but on the mic, ‘ chuis entraa.na
Come to oim, if you want, J ‘ gives you particular courses
Daserte the sound, for the clash, do not be to you will tras endowed,
Explain A. your pals how much victims are touchaes,
It is the combination of both maa.tres, having the mania
Of aliminer, A. all dibidjays, evening this, your crowns
Will fall, acoute L ‘ acho of the tears of the sound servant boys having
Bluffa, locked up in a cage A. prasent, they cannot
Achapper, A. you not to flachir, all your acts one needs them
To assume, a sound moreover east fell, ouais but them
The following N ‘ has which has. mafier
It is the strong current D ‘ marae, on the microphone, ramane a bouae
Entraa.ne tous.les.jours, every month, if all is needed
L ‘ annae, sound servant boy you can T ‘ marrer but on the mic ‘ chuis
Entraa.na, come to oim, if you want, I give you courses
Private individuals.

REFRAIN

SPECTA: Are Oa. thus all passed?
Dabarque Specta maintaining all occurs to passed
Is Oa. thus your band of batards?
Are Oa. thus of dangerous strapping men?
The world is held!
Not not… Je hold the world and I break all that approaches has.
All that is used you as life that I maprise.S.S.C.

FENIKSI: Ha you! ME?
Do not seek your blase in a dictionary, associating words to which you
Know nothing there A. nothing, has mane A. nothing.
The name does not make the flow, but the flow makes that your name your-ca’.
They is well 2,3 interviews by Fraderico, then you will make rebounds
Radio out of radio, a tube A. Roberta & Chico, a rap which makes if
Cold in the back that it is believed sponsorisa by Miko
You laugh? How A.!
You start again A. to believe that are good for you, guy T ‘ are null!
Outside as in room.
Illico damarre, praviens other hypochondriacs
That you are pricked, will prick, spades with….

REFRAIN

Carnage. Funny, but carnage nevertheless.

What have I been doing? Apart from taking photos of Hem, you mean? :-)

I’m just about caught up after all the excitement starting a week ago tonight when we saw Hem for the first (and only scheduled for us) time this tour in Shepherds Bush. Then we got chatting after the show, like you do, and ended up on the guest list with a photo pass for the next night in Reading, then E mentioned she loves the Beautiful South – no accounting for taste – and so off we went the following night to Nottingham for the third night in a row. Spent the weekend, and most of the first half of this week, knackered. It didn’t help that the Comfort Inn in Reading put us in the crappiest room on the top floor and because of the heat it was far from, ahem, comfortable. We ended up giving up on sleep and leaving at 4 a.m. which of course at least meant that we drove the M4 and M25 quicker than seems decent.

I doubt I’ll be able to see any band, let alone one I love so much, 3 times in a row again any time soon. I haven’t done that since my ligger days in Manchester, over 10 years ago now. It was cool to be able to hear the little details of arrangement they’d rehearsed for the shows, like the longer drum crescendos in Half Acre and so on, through repeated listening. But let’s face it, it was just as cool to get a little wave from Sally when she caught our eye amidst 4000 people…

After fighting our way here early warned as we were that Hem were on Stage early in Manchester, they won’t be on here for another half hour. Bugger! Two support acts mean we only get an hour and a half. They’re worth it though.

We couldn’t miss the chance to see Lisa Loeb, when she tours the UK so seldom. This was her only UK date this time around, and so tickets (plus hefty booking fee, grumble grumble – later found out the Bloomsbury also sells its tickets direct without the scam) were absolutely mandatory.

This is the first gig I’ve seen at the Bloomsbury and it’s a decent venue: a bit threadbare, but the usual friendly atmosphere of a college hall. After a swift noodle at Wagamama and a brisk walk, we got to our seats with minutes to spare. The stage was minimally adorned with just two mics, a bunch of pedals and a stool – no pretensions here.

On came Lisa and Dave Gibbs of Gigolo Aunts and away we went. Dave did a great job as an inconspicuous but very able backing artist – to the point where I thought to myself that I must dig out some more Gigolo Aunts stuff.

“Do You Sleep?” was a cracker, and it just kept getting better. The P.A. was impeccable and if anything there was more detail than on some of her records. Because it wasn’t too loud (God, I’m getting old) you could even hear her tapping her bebooted foot to emphasize the accents – and maybe to keep Dave in line.

I was hoping she wouldn’t do “Window Shopping” because that’s the one song of hers I really can’t stand. Really. To the extent that in the beginning it put me off the whole “The Way It Really Is” album. Of course, now I love it, I’m just in the habit of skipping track one. Just like when I listen to Husker Du I just skip all the Grant Hart songs. Well, she did sing it, and I didn’t like it, but a bit of contrast does no harm.

There was plenty of cute chit-chat between songs: Lisa went to Regents Park that lunchtime, had rather too much cheese, great baguette – crispy on the outside, doughy on the inside… ahem. Apparently they have some new ducks there that weren’t there before. Bless. “The Way It Really Is” was originally going to be called “Half and Half” but that looked stupid written above the picture with the deer.

It wouldn’t be fair to bring this whole review down by making a comment about how she looks: it’s all about the music! “Will You Wander?” was particularly delicate, “Stay” was, of course, magnificent, and “Butterfly” from “Catch the Moon” was simply wonderful: so frail and spare. Captivating. What is the main impression this evening has left on me?

Damn, she’s cute.