Balls to Xmas

Right, that's Xmas over with.

All fairly uneventful: the usual blend of eating and drinking punctuated with being humiliated at scrabble by schoolgirls. And hardly any TV. Got a bit of reading in though: I'm halfway through Cormac McCarthy's 'The Road', a bleak but highly readable account of a father and son travelling across the scrorched earth of a post apocalyptic USA. Mind you, I'm not looking forward to reaching the end - from the first page you know it can't possibly finish anything but badly. Also dipping into Claire Tomalin's 'Thomas Hardy: The Time Torn Man', very readable too, as well as ploughing on with the Brothers Karamazov, which I suspect I'll still be reading this time next year.

Predictably, the festive season has seen a hike in blood sugar readings. Unlike on previous holidays everything stayed under control while we were in Marrakesh - thanks mainly to scarcity of booze, a lot of walking and redistributing any white bread I was offered back to people in the street. In Blighty though things took a rather different turn and I registered a scary 15.7 the day after Boxing Day. That's what comes from sitting about on my arse boozing and feasting, it would seem. So back in London now and back on the bike but still some way to go to get back to base camp 6.0


On a lighter and more peurile note, here's some testicles in Yves Saint Laurent's Majorelle Gardens in Marrakesh that rather amusingly resemble cactuses.

Marrakeshmas

Back from a week in Marrakech - possibly the most extraordinary city I've ever been to. We thought we might struggle to entertain ourselves over 6 days in a comparatively small place but the Medina is a constant source of amazing sights and the main square, Jmaa el Fna (which translates as 'Assembly of the Dead') is full of all sorts of weird and wonderful goings on - often involving music and chickens, but also snake charming, boxing and fishing for large coca cola bottles. The whole haggling for prices thing becomes a tad wearisome after a while as all too late you realise you've become obssessed with trying to buy a lamp for 10p cheaper than in the last place you saw one. The charm of the stall holders speaking English seemingly acquired from repeated viewings of 'Only Fools and Horses' also wears thin rather quickly, and if I never see another tagine again in this life or the next it will be too soon. But despite all that the place still has quite an atmosphere, and you can't help expecting to see Peter Lorre come scuttling around the next corner. In any case it was worth visiting for the chance to take a picture of Shelly with a chicken on her head.



Merry Christmas one and all

Blix and Budo

Last 'Hello Goodbye' show of the year today, and we left 2006 in style with spirited sessions from Hans Blix & The Inspectors as well as Chik Budo, both excellent outfits well worth checking out and very nice chaps to boot. HB does a nice line in sardonic post modern country blues while CB's twin-saxophone, guitarless instrumental jazz punk is very stirring stuff indeed.

Off to Marrakesh on Monday to buy everyone a fez for christmas.

World's tallest man saves dolphins

Fantastic headline.

Three cheers for the lanky Chinaman!

Mule variations

Following Ed's splendid solo session on Saturday's show, Shelly and I sploshed through the rain to the Spitz last night to see the Mules, and it was well worth braving the elements for. I'm a sucker for a band with a singing drummer and these fellows are very very good live - to these ears occasionally reminiscent of the Violent Femmes, Kurt Weil, Nick Cave, Tom Waits, Sparks, Adam and the Ants and, according to Shelly, Devo. That probably says more about our reference points than theirs though. As a tribute to another band they are sometimes compared to they included a storming version of Talking Heads' 'Life During Wartime' in their live set. Their own songs are just as strong though: seek out their excellent 'Save Your Face' album, it's terrific stuff.

Mules, Hinnies and Broccoli

Representatives of 3 of London's finest bands graced the show today. Ed from the excellent Mules played 3 solo songs and donated a copy of their album to the first listener to correctly identify a mule as the offspring of a donkey stallion (called a jack apparently) and a horse mare - the other way round produces a hinny, so he tells me. Melinda of the Bronsteins also played a trio of rather lovely solo songs and deXter Bentley's wayward adopted nephews the Xerox Teens lavished very loud and very live renditions of both sides of their new single upon the airwaves.

My Friday night, by contrast, included a rather banal visit to Tesco where I was served a young male cashier who was unable to identify all of my shopping. At one point he picked up an item and asked me what it was called. It was broccoli.

Merry Cropsmas

To the Garrison for the Crops annual festive works outing on Monday night. After deciding that it would this year be a 'No Wives' affair, David turned up with Steph in tow. She was very nervous about breaking the men only embargo, but Jon reassured her that we didn't really consider her as female, which made her feel much better, no doubt. Much ingestion of booze and poor quality vegetarian food ensued, with cocktails at the Village East. We finished off the night at the Rose, by which point I was on the diet cokes, it being a school night and all. Jon and David more than made up for my abstinence, with David several sheets to the wind and Jon ending up spending the night at her majesty's pleasure after apparently doing a runner from a minicab. Next year we'll invite the wives again.

Milton Arms

Spent Sunday evening at the Milton Arms in Bow, home to Rich of the Xerox Teens. It was closed down after someone was murdered there last year and is now awaiting demolition, but in the mean time they have the run of the place, which is surely every man's dream. Not the bit about living at a murder scene, obviously, but the having a bar for a living room part. Foolishly, I drove there so couldn't take full advantage of the facilities, but they did make us a very nice cup of tea, bless 'em. Not only that, but the deXter Bentley acoustic male menopause show seemed to go down rather well with the young people too.

Lot Lizards

London's finest Italian-Japanese garage punk twosome Lot LIzards played live on the show on Saturday, with Meg and GG keeping the noise and energy levels admirably high for a Saturday lunchtime. Peterborough's favourite daughter Lianne Hall provided a more mellow counterpoint in the control room with us. Spent a very worthwhile hour in the cafe afterwards teaching Chester the underlying principles of the knock knock joke, perhaps the finest art form known to humankind.

Get thee behind me Santa

Forgot to take my camera to the Crops gig at the Windmill last night so here's Shelly's Santa instead - the full extent of our Christmas decorations this year. Ho ho ho. Funny old gig: it was someone's birthday party so no-one was really paying attention to us. Which was a shame, cos we were good.

Embroidering: the truth

Band practice with the Crops at Alaska on Monday. The street's winter wonderland theme is continued across the road from the studio by the Igloo coffee bar, a place that holds much fascination for us. For starters there doesn't appear to be a door - do employees have to climb in through the hatch or were they bricked in years ago and have never come out? Secondly, every surface inside is covered in tin foil. Do they know something we don't?
Met Keith for a birthday pint after rehearsal. He doesn't look too bad for 50, does he?
Rehearsed again tonight, this time with the Bentleys at the house of Joss, where Kate showed us some of her excellent embroidery, which may very well be the new rock and roll. She's got an exhibition on in Upper Street that I solemnly urge you to visit.

The skin of our pants

Another relatively quiet week, brightened up by road testing some more of Shelly's masks. It's just been raining stair rods - pretty impressive but hard to capture in a photo. I'm not too bothered about the rain, but could do without the way it makes the straps on my cycle helmet smell when they get wet. Not pleasant at all.





A very fine show on Saturday. Here's Robin, our shy and retiring engineer, and Killing Joke stalkee Nina Walsh playing live. With my usual finesse I managed to announce several dates incorrectly, apparently believing at one point that we were still in September. Richard coined a particularly memorable phrase 'by the skin of their pants', which I shall be dropping into conversation at the first opportunity that presents itself.

On to the Salisbury in St Martin's Lane last night for Nigel's leaving do - he's being transported to Australia next week. It was also the debut public performance for Robert and Midi's as yet unnamed band. Here's Robert looking more like Sting the older he gets - in fact he now looks more like Sting than Sting does.

Nighttime and Littlefield

Excellent sessions on the show today from Nighttime & Damien Raison and Alan Tyler & The Lost Sons of Littlefield. Retired to the Angel after the show - here's Nighttime with TV Magic, who made a guest appearance on the session. A most enjoyable couple of pints of very reasonably priced bitter were consumed, accompanied by a stimulating discussion of the power of magnifying glasses, celebrity scientists and the world's biggest nut, among other things.

Chimp My Bride

A quiet week. Here's Shelly obscured by a monkey. It's no coincidence that Planet of the Apes was written in French. The way that they say chimpanzee is quite beautiful.

Bloody heck

Haven't mentioned the old blood sugar for a while. It's been behaving itself recently but this morning was at the giddy heights of 9.6, and that was after I'd been for a swim. That's what a Saturday night on the sauce followed by an entire Sunday on the sofa does for you.

Anyway, here's one of my favourite pictures, taken a few years ago at a floating animation festival in Russia. Perhaps the most fantastic 10 days of my life, though had I been diabetic back then I would quite possibly not have made it back to Britain.

All hail Macbeth

A very fine evening at the Macbeth last night. Cheers to the Teens for being worthy hosts. The bands were marvellous - Leicester's Supreme Vagabond Craftsman do a nice line in Maidenesque twin-guitar riffery, Lost Penguin managed to alienate the old gits in the audience but still won my heart for their sheer youthful abandon, even if they did make me feel as if I was one of their parents come to give them a lift home after the show. Stained Glass Heroes were also on very good form. Their bassist Al seems to have a fur fetish. His face was entirely covered in the stuff when I saw them at the Windmill and last night he was sporting this rather fetching number.

Radio

The Loves from Cardiff were on the show today as well as Jason Mcniff and Emily Barker , who did a terrific version of Kate Bush's 'Wuthering Heights', most impressive. Also on, though sadly not captured by the camera, were bonkers Hungarian duo Agaskado Televerek (which translates as Rearing Stallions) who played an excellent set, and have a fantastic eponymous album well worth investigating. Listening back to the show on headphones helped get me through a hungover and George Romero-esque visit to Surrey Quays Tesco's on Sunday afternoon.

Happy Birthday Mr Vonnegut

Rehearsal's not a life

Back in Alaska again last night with the Crops in preparation for tomorrow's gig at the Xerox Teens' Parlour Night in Hoxton.

A most enjoyable rehearsal with much juvenile chortling at inappropriate topics interepersed with sporadic bursts of badly performed music. Then we finished early because our fingers were hurting and went for a rather odd visit to the pub which ended up with us discussing shepherd's pie recipes over diet cokes.

If you've never heard the Crops you can visit our Myspace page, or simply imagine what 'Last of the Summer Wine: The Musical' might sound like.

Half Baked Alaska

Rehearsed with the Crops for the first time in a while last night and miraculously remembered how to play most of the songs. Which doesn't bode well for Saturday's gig. Repaired to the King's Arms for a few jars afterwards, but since it was a school night, I baled (bailed?)out after the third pint. I'm told everyone else kept the rock and roll flag flying in my absence and it all got rather 'messy'. I don't know who should be more ashamed - me for leaving or them for not doing so.

12 Bar

Great night at the 12 Bar. Salt & Blue gave a mesmorising performance. Jess plays the Hurdy Gurdy, which is a sight to behold as well as an amazing thing to listen to. Hamilton Yarns were sublimely charming and Tea and Toast Band, dressed like some kind of Woodland Creature Klansmen, got everyone chanting the word 'bicycle' with complete abandon. Hunting Lodge were probably at this point wondering what they were doing on the bill but gamely took to to the stage to up the volume level by about 500% for an intensely excoriating performance. They are a truly extraordinary band - it's not every day you see a man in his underpants playing a kitchen sink but it all seemed to make complete sense. Shame on the people who chose the last tube home instead of watching them.