May 17, 2004
Several days of constant writing interrupted by occasional bouts of physical exertion (just to prove to myself that I’m actually capable of moving!) and copious phone calls (including several of a Shed-related nature from the Rory McGrath of Ambient dandyism, Lord Chilvers himself).
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Ironically, the recordings from the Festival performance came out surprisingly well, with ‘winter with you’ and ‘last year’s tattoo’ being every bit as good as I’d hoped. Confirming something I’ve always known, that the gigs that feel the worst to play often sound the best in retrospect, conversely, it’s the performances that feel the best on the night that frequently end up being the most excruciating to listen to.
I remember a particularly wonderful No-Man London Marquee headline in the early 1990s that had both band and audience in raptures. We were Gods.
Really. Unfortunately, the recorded evidence revealed the sound of fifteen cats giving birth in a filthy alleyway, with me singing flatter than Marc Almond on a bad day and Ben and Steven seemingly playing songs from the early Throbbing Gristle catalogue. The genteel epic ‘Days In The Trees’ bore an uncanny resemblance to Motorhead’s ‘Bomber’ that evening. Stranger still, no-one noticed.
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Sifting through new photos and mixes, ‘my hotel year’ is almost at an end.
watching:
Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind (yet again!)
listening:
Art Garfunkel – Watermark (1978)
Magazine – (Where The Power Is) (2000, compilation)
The Streets – Turn The Page/It’s Too Late (2002)
The Streets – A Grand Don’t Come For Free (2004)