review: it was rubbish, he did stars
and for your babies
, forgot the words to a new flame
and stormed off in a huff. stop. reading. now.
sometimes, the internet has its uses. sometimes, the internet pays off BIG style. and if it hadn't been for toriar
entering a competition on myspace
of all places, i wouldn't have found myself at cafe royal
last night, watching lovely patrick wolf
playing a gig for no more than 100 people, in a tiny room, with a free bar. you heard me.
we both turned up ridiculously early, and sat in the candlelit hotel bar. after looking at the cocktail menu i was jonesing for an old fashioned. and so i had one. a properly made one. nom nom. delicious. bad spending, good booze.
and then we meandered in, restrained selves from shrieking at the tiny size of the place, and drank tasty free champagne whilst being photographed by someone or other. very bizarre.
and THEN i discovered the free bar, which had run out of anything that wasn't vodka or beer. mmm, vodka.
more importantly, patrick wolf
. just him and a piano / moog / violin, plus lady violinist where required, and bishi. he opened with teignmouth
. joy!!! i can't remember the last time i heard that live. it's one of my favourite-songs-on-repeat. in fact, when in my workroom the only things i've been listening to of late are wind in the wires
and, er, crime of the century
. they seem to be perfect music to keep me serene and happy and concentrating. except when teignmouth
comes on, at that moment i usually stop whatever i'm doing and just listen, and grin.
old stuff. low key stuff. beautiful stuff. i find myself mesmerised by the mirrors by the stage, in one arch is the reflection of his shadow, in another his reflection proper, and the last frames the actual violinist. we find ourselves right at the front of the stage. i'm almost embarrassed to find myself catching his eye whilst singing quietly to myself. ahem.
anyway, despite the best efforts of some media tw@ts (probably the same ones leaving mountains of white powder in the toilets) braying loudly at the back whilst swigging the booze (to mr wolf's vocalised annoyance) it was pretty darned excellent. and it was ace to have a good old gossip and natter with toriar
too. london's brilliant, isn't it? (unless you have the flu, argh, guilts.)
on the way there i walked through leicester square, stumbling across the preview for fred claus
en route. er, warning. tried to watch that film the other day, and it's pretty poor. don't see it. save your pennies! it certainly isn't worth getting chemical snow in your eyes for, peons.
the scrabulous roll-over advertising is really winding me up. chuck and larry can sod right off, thanks.