Damn!
Damn!
I had a nice long post going about my adventures in the past 24 hrs. And then Explorer crashed.
So rather than retype the whole lot I'm going to give you the whistlestop version (which I should have in the first place):
Train to Brighton: Went nicely. Southern Service trains now have WiFi. Didn't have my laptop, but I will make a note to bring it along next time I take the train to Bognor Regis.
Finding Venue: Easy. Had plenty of time. The train station isn't too far from the Lanes.
The Venue itself: didn't really have a stage, so all the bands had to effectively perform on the floor. Hardcore!
Gig Highlights: Chatting with Bobby Bray (guitar) and Gabe Serbian (drums) from the Locust before their set. Bobby is pretty chilled. Ditto Gabe. Strange that the people who play the most aggressive music are so often like that. By extension of the pattern, Kenny G must be a right surly thug.
The Locust Set: slightly different to the Monday Night set, still with absolute craziness interspersed with spaced out Moog drones. This time I had the forsight to buy some earplugs. Because the band were set up at floor level the overexcited and surprisingly young studentish crowd frequently nearly spilled over the band's equipment. No crowd surfers though. Thank God.
Paradoxically the band seemed to run overtime, as the management turned on the house lights for the last two songs.
After the show I chatted a little with Moog-ist Joey Karam as he bundled up cables and stuff. I told him that my sister Elea, on hearing Plague Soundscapes, declared that The Locust sounded like a computer exploding.
He considered that high praise.
Security bundled everyone out.
Post show:
Stupidly, I decided to kill time till the train back to London at 0500 by taking a walk alond the Boardwalk. It was stupid because I broke my cardinal rule of walking along a beach in Britain: don't walk with the wind, because you'll have to walk against it when you walk back.
Especially when there is a brutal gale behind you and there is rain gathering, ready to start coming in horizontally when you've already reached Hove.
Walking back towards Brighton I managed to a) freeze my face and b) get my jeans wetter than I really wanted them to be. Fortunately the layers I was wearing, not the least my leather jacket, saved me from getting total hypothermia. Without these layers I would probably have Pneumonia by now.
The next three or four hours I spent cursing my stupidity for allowing myself to think it would be fun to kill time in Brighton between Midnight and Five AM When it was so clearly likely to be cold and wet. At the same time I was completely disinclined pay for space in a hostel when I was only going to be there for a few hours.
For those wondering: yes, I did nearly freeze to death. And yes, it was completely stupid.
What did I prove?
I think I proved that I have no interest in ever being homeless.
In any case, after chilling in doorways and anywhere dry and safe that I could find, plus having a look at the beach, it was time to take the train back to London.
Train to London. Tube to Leytonstone. Leytonstone to a warm bed.
.
.
.
I just told Haff the story of what I did last night, since he mentioned that I look really, really rough. He thought it was an insane thing to do. I agree.
In any case, I think tonight I will buy some food and maybe go see a movie.
Gus: you oughtta love this, since you were such a big fan of Daphne and Celeste:
http://www.badhorsey.net/whos_in.htm
Final notes: I am glad that I went to Brighton. I saw lots of cool buildings, met some cool people, saw a composer working in his home studio in his flat in the basement of one of those swanky looking buildings that line Brighton Beach and above all, I got out of London and saw a cool band. Again.
And I discovered the sheer stupidity of going somewhere without having somewhere warm to sleep before you get there.
I am such an indoor cat.
Anyone who wants to write to me to chide me for my folly, you probably already know the address.
(yes, I know I could have possibly crashed with Jacqui or Aunt Mary. The show wouldn't have finished til after midnight and I didn't want to bother them. That's me. Polite to a fault.)
Over and out.
J
I had a nice long post going about my adventures in the past 24 hrs. And then Explorer crashed.
So rather than retype the whole lot I'm going to give you the whistlestop version (which I should have in the first place):
Train to Brighton: Went nicely. Southern Service trains now have WiFi. Didn't have my laptop, but I will make a note to bring it along next time I take the train to Bognor Regis.
Finding Venue: Easy. Had plenty of time. The train station isn't too far from the Lanes.
The Venue itself: didn't really have a stage, so all the bands had to effectively perform on the floor. Hardcore!
Gig Highlights: Chatting with Bobby Bray (guitar) and Gabe Serbian (drums) from the Locust before their set. Bobby is pretty chilled. Ditto Gabe. Strange that the people who play the most aggressive music are so often like that. By extension of the pattern, Kenny G must be a right surly thug.
The Locust Set: slightly different to the Monday Night set, still with absolute craziness interspersed with spaced out Moog drones. This time I had the forsight to buy some earplugs. Because the band were set up at floor level the overexcited and surprisingly young studentish crowd frequently nearly spilled over the band's equipment. No crowd surfers though. Thank God.
Paradoxically the band seemed to run overtime, as the management turned on the house lights for the last two songs.
After the show I chatted a little with Moog-ist Joey Karam as he bundled up cables and stuff. I told him that my sister Elea, on hearing Plague Soundscapes, declared that The Locust sounded like a computer exploding.
He considered that high praise.
Security bundled everyone out.
Post show:
Stupidly, I decided to kill time till the train back to London at 0500 by taking a walk alond the Boardwalk. It was stupid because I broke my cardinal rule of walking along a beach in Britain: don't walk with the wind, because you'll have to walk against it when you walk back.
Especially when there is a brutal gale behind you and there is rain gathering, ready to start coming in horizontally when you've already reached Hove.
Walking back towards Brighton I managed to a) freeze my face and b) get my jeans wetter than I really wanted them to be. Fortunately the layers I was wearing, not the least my leather jacket, saved me from getting total hypothermia. Without these layers I would probably have Pneumonia by now.
The next three or four hours I spent cursing my stupidity for allowing myself to think it would be fun to kill time in Brighton between Midnight and Five AM When it was so clearly likely to be cold and wet. At the same time I was completely disinclined pay for space in a hostel when I was only going to be there for a few hours.
For those wondering: yes, I did nearly freeze to death. And yes, it was completely stupid.
What did I prove?
I think I proved that I have no interest in ever being homeless.
In any case, after chilling in doorways and anywhere dry and safe that I could find, plus having a look at the beach, it was time to take the train back to London.
Train to London. Tube to Leytonstone. Leytonstone to a warm bed.
.
.
.
I just told Haff the story of what I did last night, since he mentioned that I look really, really rough. He thought it was an insane thing to do. I agree.
In any case, I think tonight I will buy some food and maybe go see a movie.
Gus: you oughtta love this, since you were such a big fan of Daphne and Celeste:
http://www.badhorsey.net/whos_in.htm
Final notes: I am glad that I went to Brighton. I saw lots of cool buildings, met some cool people, saw a composer working in his home studio in his flat in the basement of one of those swanky looking buildings that line Brighton Beach and above all, I got out of London and saw a cool band. Again.
And I discovered the sheer stupidity of going somewhere without having somewhere warm to sleep before you get there.
I am such an indoor cat.
Anyone who wants to write to me to chide me for my folly, you probably already know the address.
(yes, I know I could have possibly crashed with Jacqui or Aunt Mary. The show wouldn't have finished til after midnight and I didn't want to bother them. That's me. Polite to a fault.)
Over and out.
J
posted by the.exile at 7:44 pm
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